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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



SCORER'S 

Successful Selections 

— AND — 

PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 

A TREATISE OX THE SCIENCE AND ART OF ELOCUTION, 
WITH A COLLECTION OF TESTED AND APPROVED SE- 
LECTIONS FOR RECITATION ON ALL OCCASIONS. 



Including the Choicest Gems of Elocution and Ora- 
tory from the Editor's own Repertoire. 



EVERY PIECE A MASTERPIECE, 



The Best Selections for Elocutionary Purposes to be 
found in the whole range of english literature. 



ESPECIALLY DESIGNED FOR ADVANCED STUDENTS, TEACHERS, 
AND PROFESSIONAL RECITERS. 




EDITED BY 
JOHN G. SCORES, M. O., 
PRINCIPAL OF 

'■ ■ ■ • ■ • 






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-X 



Incorporated May, 1892. 



PUBLISHED BY 

J. R. HOLCOMB & COMPANY. 

CLEVELAND, O. 



V 



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1° x 



Copyright, 1892, by J. R. HOLCOMB & CO. 
Copyright, 1894, by JOHN G. SCORER. 



PART FIRST. 



PREFACE 



The subject of Elocution is here presented as a Science 
and an Art. The Science consists of its true principles ; the 
Art consists in the manner of presenting them. Science is the 
knowledge of Art and Art is the practice of Science. Science 
investigates and applies the principles ; Art gives practical 
illustration to the principles. As a Science it teaches us to 
know ; as an Art it teaches us to do. The principles spring 
out of the nature of things, being based upon fundamental 
laws, and are not simply the arbitrary rules of skillful teachers. 

It has been our aim to present the subject of Elocution in 
this manual in a simplified form, with clearness, and perspi- 
cuity. The treatment of many of the divisions is unique ; still 
it is in complete harmony with the most modern and advanced 
but approved methods of instruction in Speech Arts. Ambi- 
guity has been studiously avoided. AVhile the course is 
complete and comprehensive, confusing, non-essential details 
have been omitted. 

The student should be educated upon a well-regulated 
and scientific plan of instruction ; he should be given real and 
not superficial culture. The aim of the true teacher should be 
to foster artistic growth and development ; look to quality rather 
than quantity. 

Notwithstanding improved methods of instruction, there 
is still no royal road to excellence in the Science and Art 
of Elocution. To reach the goal requires assiduous and pains- 
taking labor, but it is well worthy of the greatest effort, for 

"Of equal honor with him who writes a great poem, is he 
who reads it grandly." 

John G. Scorer. 



PART SECOND-PREFACE. 

We have aimed to make this volume a veritable- 
bouquet of the choicest flowers of literature, for elocu- 
tionary purposes, to be found in the whole world of 
English Letters. 

The book will, at least, be unique among publications 
of its class, as it has been made up on a new plan. 

Nothing has been admitted simply to "fill up." In- 
stead of including worthless clippings and ephemeral 
literature of no elocutionary value, we have admitted 
hone but pre-eminently successful selections of un- 
doubted merit. 

Instead of cutting the selections down to ridiculous 
limits, as many do to make a large list, thus render- 
ing them worthless, we have aimed to include really 
valuable selections of appropriate length and as many of 
them as a generous volume would admit. Thinking per- 
sons will discriminate here. 

Most of the selections have been drawn from the 
editor's own repertoire, and many of them have never be- 
fore been published. He has tested them before large 
and cultured audiences, and they have invariably been 
received with marked favor. 

The list includes a wide range of Selections, express- 
ing nearly every shade of Sentiment, — something suitable 
for all occasions. It is a symmetrical many-sided collec- 
tion of both old and new Pieces, certain to become favor- 
ites wherever properly presented. 

The selections have been carefully edited and revised 
when necessary to better adapt them to elocutionary pur- 
poses. 

As a guide to the student, we have in the Table of 
Contents indicated the general character of each selection. 
The prevailing style of a piece determines its class. 

The book is especially intended for the use of students 
and teachers in our public schools and colleges and for 
professional reciters. It represents our best effort in this 
line. We invite comparison and are content to have the 
fortunes of the book determined by its merit. 

To those who have allowed us the use of Selections 
upon which they hold the copyright, and to co-laborers 
for fraternal courtesies, we extend our thanks. 

J. G. S. 



CONTENTS-PART I. 



PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. tage, 

Anger, Hurry and Commotion, .... 39 

Arm Movements, ...... 44 

Articulation, 19 

Bible Heading, 40 

Breathing, .11 

Climax, 34 

Dialect, 42 

Didactic Selections, 39-41 

Difficult Yowel Sounds, 19 

Emphasis, Rules for, 27 

Expressive Movements of the Lower Limbs, . 43 

Expression, . 35 

Features, 48 

Force, 30 

Cayety, 3S 

Gesture, 43-48 

Grand, Sublime, and Reverential Selections, 3S 

Hands Clinched, . . 47 

Humorous Selections, 39 

Hymn Reading, 41 

Index Finger, The, 47 

Impersonation, 41 

IVIelody, 22 

Narrative, Descriptive and Didactic Selections, 39 

Oratory, 38 

Pathos, .35 

Pauses, Rhetorical and Grammatical, . . 23-24 

Pitch, 29 

Positions of the Feet, 43 

Principle of Opposition, 47 

Quality of Voice, 16 

Quotations, Reading of, ... . . 33 

Rhyme and Pronunciation, .... 21 

Serenity, Beauty, Love, and Tranquility, . 37 

Solemnity, 37 

Special Gestures, 46 

Stress, 33 

Time, 33 

Uses of the Principal Lines, .... 44 

Voice Development, 13 



CONTE NTS-P ART II. 

PAGE. 

JVffected % Young Lady, An, Humorous, ... 53 

Agnes I Love Thee, Humorous, .... 69 

Alex-and-Her, Humorous, 109 

American Evolution, Oratorical, Chauncey M. Depew. 124 

Aunty Parson's Mission Story, Presbyterian Journal. 146 

Ben-Hur, The Story of, Synopsis by J. G. Scorer. 141 

Bill Mason's Bride, Dramatic, . . Bret Harte. 137 

Black as a Nager, Humorous, .... 99 

Blue Wart, The, Humorous, . . . . 112 

Bobolink, The, Sentimental, . . The Aldine. 154 

Charge of the Light Brigade, Dramatic, Tennyson. 30 

Character of Washington, Oratorical, . Everett. 130 

Christopher Columbus, Humorous, Arr. J. G. Scorer. 52 

Connor, Pathetic, .... Dr. Parker. 24 

Conundrum, . . . . . . . .71 

Courtin', The, Humorous, . James Russell Lowell. 33 

Darius Green and His Flying Machine, Trowbridge. 15 

Dick Swiveller and the Marchioness, Dickens. 59 

Don't Cry, Pathetic, . . James Whitcomb Biley. 153 

Doom of Claudius and Cynthia, Maurice Thompson. 72 

Drifting, Tranquility, . . . T. B. Bead. 115 

Dying Christian to His Soul, . Alexander Pope. 110 

Daffodils, Tranquility, . William Wordsworth. 164 
Encounter of Miles Standish with the Indians, 

Dramatic, . . . .II. W. Longfellow. 12 

Encounter with an Interviewer, Samuel L. Clemens. 100 

Engineers Making Love, . . B. J. Burdette. 158 

Ever so Far Away, Humorous, . . Von Boyle. 138 

Fitz-James and Boderick Dhu, Dramatic, Scott. 64 

Foreign Views of the Statue, Fred Emerson Brooks. 57 

Foxes' Tails, The, Humorous, ...» 106 
Frenchman's Opinion of the Tragedy of Macbeth, 

A, Humorous, 116 

Grand Army Badge, The, Pathetic, Jack' Crawford. 133 

Had Been Dipped, Humorous, .... 14b 

Heart's Ease, Pathetic, 104 

Hindoo Tale, A, Humorous, .... 114 

Hotspur's Defence, Dramatic, . . Shakspeare. 87 

How "Ruby" Played, Humorous, Arr. by J. G. Scorer. 36 

Hullo, Humorous, . . . S. W. Foss. 127 



ix. CONTEXTS— PART II.— Continued. 

PAGE. 

Hymn to Mount Blanc, Grandeur, S. T. Coleridge. 77 

|mph-m" Humorous, . . . James Nicholson. 32 

In an Atelier, Scene in an Artist's Studio, Aldrich. 49 

Irishman and Donkey, Humorous, ... 63 

Jerry, the Newsboy, Dramatic, Mary Lowe Dickinson. 144 

John Burns of Gettysburg, Dramatic, Bret Hatte. 40 

Klll a Fiddler, Humorous, . . . . 156 

Last Hymn, The, Musical, Marianne Farningham. 85 

Lavery's Hens, Humorous, 93 

Laughing Encore, ... J. G. Scorer. 132 

Little Cripple, The, Joyous, James Whitcomb Riley. 70 

Little Stow- away, Pathetic, 92 

Low-Backed Car, The, Humorous, Samuel Lover. 22 

Mammy's Li'l' Boy, A Lullaby, . H. S. Edwards. 151 

Me and Jim, Humorous, . . Chicago Times. 142 

NfGHT of Troubles, A, . "Josiah Allen's Wife." 54 

Old Clock on the Stairs, Solemnity, Longfellow. 96 

Old Sayings, Humorous, Revised by J. G. Scorer. 79 

Opportunities, Humorous, 156 

Orthod-ox Team, The, Humorous, Fred E. Brooks. 128 

Polish Boy, The, Dramatic, . Ann S. Stephens. 9 

Popular Suffrage and Education, J. A. Garfield. 123 

Rastus," Humorous, 110 

Ruggleses' Dinner-Party, The, Humorous, Wiggin. 44 

Shamus O'Brien, Dramatic, . . Samuel Lover. IIS 

Similar Case, A, Humorous, 84 

So Was I, Humorous, . . Joseph Bert Smiley. 160 

Song of the Camp, Musical, . Bayard Taylor. 7 

Song of the Winter Winds, William 31. Clark. 159 

Sticking Right to Business, Humorous, . . 95 

Stutterers, The Three, Humorous, .... 156 

Sublime and the Ridiculous, The, ... 76 
Tall Gentleman, A, Humorous, . . . .84 

Texas Duel, A, Humorous, . . . . 117 

Too Late for the Train, Humorous ... 80 

Toussaint L'Ouverture, Oratorical, Wendell Phillips. Ill 

Tragi-Co3iedy of Life, The, .... 126 

Two Boot-Blacks, The, Humorous, ... 43 

Uncle Pete and the Bait, Humorous, . . 83 

VVhat the Bobolinks Said, . Belle L. Barnes. 162 

Whar the Hand O'God is Seen, Capt. Jack Crawford. 161 



PART FIRST. 



BREATHING 



The organs of respiration exert a great influence over the- 
power of the voice. Proper* control of them is very import- 
ant. Deep and vigorous breathing is one of life's strong 
holds; it is a sign of power and mind concentration; in short 
it is the basis of good health, and of all perfection in reading, 
speaking, and singing. No other action of which the body is 
capable affords exercise to so many vital organs. It gives in- 
creased lung capacity and thereby brings a greater supply of 
air to the lungs, quickening the circulation, purifying the 
blood, aiding digestion and rendering body and mind healthy 
and strong. Taking the breath properly, then, is of the greatest 
importance. The lungs should be trained to free, full and 
powerful action; the muscles that control the breath should be 
perfectly disciplined. 

BREATHIXG EXEKC1SES. 

Attitude of the Body. — Stand erect, heels together,, 
toes at an angle of seventy degrees, weight of body resting on 
both feet, the shoulders well back, head up with the chin 
drawn slightly in: place the hands on the hips with the thumbs 
on the small of the back and the fingers on the abdominal 
muscles in front. 

How to Breathe. — Breath should be taken noiselessly 
through the nose, except when employed as a means of expres- 
sion, as in fright, surprise, etc. In the following exercises 
there must be no upward movement of the shoulders. 

The greater the length of time occupied in each exercise 
the better the result. After each exercise take a full inspira- 
tion for a rest. 

Chest Breathing for the upper part of the lungs. In- 
flate the chest to its fullest capacity, retain the air for a 
moment, then breathe out gradually and quietly. 

Abdominal Breathing for the lower part of the lungs. 
Contract the waist muscles in front, then inhale and thrust the 
muscles out as far as you can. 



12 scorer's successful recitations. 

Costal Breathing for the side muscles. Bend body 
sideways to the right. Inhale slowly and distend the left side; 
exhale slowly and resume erect position. Eepeat the exercise, 
bending to the left. 

Dorsal Breathing for the muscles of the back. Inhale 
and thrust out the dorsal muscles by the force of the air. 

Deep Breathing, the combination of the preceding ex- 
ercises, for the entire lung capacity. Take a full inspiration 
and exercise the will upon all parts of the body at the same 
time. This, in a less intensified form, should be our natural 
way of taking the breath. 

Effusive Breathing. — Inhale naturally, then give out 
the breath in a prolonged sound of the letter A. . 

Expulsive Breathing. — Take a full inhalation, then 
give out the air forcibly on the sound of the letter h. 

Explosive Breathing. — Take a full breath and exhale 
with a sudden force the letter h. 

Packing the Lungs. — Take a full inspiration, inhaling 
rapidly, then insert a pipe stem in the mouth and through it 
draw in more air. 

Exercise for Erect Carriage of the Body. — Take a 
full inspiration, expand the chest to its utmost, keep the abdo- 
men flat. Hold tfye muscles in this position while counting 
twenty and advance a step at each count. 

THE BKEATH IN TONE PEODUCTION. 

The diaphragm, the large muscle which separates the 
lungs and the heart from the viscera, and the waist muscles, 
constitute the primary instrument in the production of tone. 
The sustaining power of the voice lies in these muscles. They 
are the motive or propelling power. Their power does not 
center at the diaphragm, but at the waist, at the point of 
greatest girth. 

The larynx, tongue, teeth, lips, etc., constitute the second- 
ary instrument. The Larynx is the place where vocal sounds 
are made, and the power to produce them is derived from the 
combined action of the diaphragm and the waist muscles. 
The primary instrument constitutes the motive power; the sec- 
ondary the motor. The primary does the work; the secondary 
gives it expression. The principal cause of chronic sore throat 
is the failure to use the primary instrument in tone production. 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 13 

In the act of speaking and singing, the action of the dia- 
phragm and waist muscles must be downward and outward, and 
not inward and upward. 

In ordinary respiration (breathing without producing 
tone), the breath is given out by relaxation; whereas, in the 
act of speaking and singing, it should be given out by a con- 
trolled effort, or resistance to the same, in order to economize 
brea h. This is accomplished by a downward pressure of the 
diaphragm and the waist muscles. The lung cavity is com- 
pressed by the ribs, while the out-go of the breath is regulated 
by the diaphragm and the waist muscles. In relaxation, we can- 
not perfectly control the out-go of breath; more air is usually 
forced out than can be converted into tone. The striking of 
this surplus air upon the throat produces granular pharyn- 
gitis ; the back part of the throat becomes congested, and in 
time works down to the lungs and does great harm. 

Observe the action of the diaphragm and the waist muscles 
in the following exercises: Assume a moderate emphatic po- 
sition, and exert yourself as if lifting a heavy weight from the 
floor; now as if lifting a weight overhead; now strike out with 
considerable energy directly in front of you, with your right 
hand. 

If the exercises are properly executed, you will find that 
you are stronger when the action of the diaphragm and the 
waist muscles is outward and downward. The above exercises 
are performed by physical effort. The action of the muscles 
in tone production is the same, therefore the ability to produce 
tone is physical. 

Relaxation in tone production, has a tendency to force the 
vocal organs up into the throat, which is always to be avoided. 

VOICE DEVELOPMENT. 

A voice of wide compass, good volume and pure quality, 
is essential to every reader and speaker. 

Vocality is formed by the air passing from the lungs 
through the glottis, causing the vocal chords to vibrate. The 
varying tension and relaxation of the vocal ligaments or 
chords, together with the vibrations of the pharynx, the 
mouth and the nose, which form a series of resonators or 
sounding-boards, regulate the volume, quality and pitch of 
the voice. 



14 scober's successful recitations 

Each vocal sound consists of a ground or fundamental tone 
and an over-tone. The ground-tone is the one which is most 
prominent in the voice; it is the principal or fundamental part 
of the sound. Close attention to the voice reveals other tones, 
higher in pitch, mingled with the ground-tone. These are 
called the upper or over-tones of the voice. They bear a cer- 
tain relation to the ground-tone, which, when perfect, give 
harmony of sound and an effect that is pleasing. When the 
relations are not perfect, the voice is defective in quality and 
unpleasing. 

The various shades of thought and emotion are expressed 
by focalizing the voice in different parts of the mouth. Every 
sentiment and emotion is marked by tones which show its 
•character. To bring out the sentiment and emotion of pass- 
ages of anger, defiance, hatred, etc., the voice must be focal- 
ized in the front part of the mouth; in serenity, love, beauty, 
etc., on the hard palate; in grandeur, sublimity, etc., in the 
back part of the mouth or pharynx. 

The proper development of the voice requires vigorous 
vocal gymnastics. 

In all vocal exercises keep the jaw and the waist firm. Do 
not constrict the muscles of the neck and throat. Work for 
solidity of tone. Cultivate intensity. 

Earnest, systematic practice will increase the power and 
flexibility of the voice to an extent that will be surprising as 
well as gratifying. 

Pronounce with energy the vowel "a", focalizing it in the 
front part of the mouth, making it ring from the teeth. Utter 
the following words and sentences it the same manner : 

Say ! Say there ! What do you say ? Stale ale will fail to 
regale. 

"Strike, till the last armed foe expires ! 
Strike, for your alters and your fires ! 
Strike, for the green graves of your sires ! 
God and your native land ! " 

Ba, be, bi, bo. 

Close the lips tightly, and give a sudden opening of the 
vowel element, without sounding the consonant. 

Fa, fe, fi, fo. Fatal fevers fight foemen. 

Bring the upper teeth down firmly on the lower lip and 
give a sudden opening of the vowel. 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 15 

Ha, he, hi, ho. 

Separate the lips on the consonant and give a sudden 
opening of the vowel element. Close the lips tightly after each 
tone and inhale through the nose. 

Utter the word " roll", focalizing the sound on the hard 
palate. Repeat it several times, sustaining the tone. If the 
relations of the ground-tone and the over-tones are perfect, the 
latter will be quite prominent. 

"Charco' ! charco' I" 
While echo faint and far replies, — 
"Hark, O! hark, O ! " 
"Charco' !"— "Hark, O!" 

"Blow, bugle blow, set the wild echoes flying, 
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying." 

"To all, the truth we tell— we tell! " 

Shouted in ecstacies a bell; 
"Come, all ye weary wanderers, see ! 

Our Lord has made salvation free. 

Repent ! believe ; have faith ! and then 

Be saved, and praise the Lord. Amen. 

Salvation's free, we tell — we tell ! " 

'Pull ! if ye never pulled before; 

Good ringers, pull your best," quoth he. 
"Play up, play up, O Boston bells ! 
Ply all your changes, all your swells ! 
Play up The Brides of Enderby! ' ' 

"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha ! " (calling) 
"For the dews will soon be falling, 
Leave your meadow grasses mellow, 

Mellow, Mellow, 
Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow ! 
Come up, Whitefoot! come up, Lightfoot ! 
Quit the stalks of Parsley hollow, 
Hollow, hollow!" 

Utter the word "roll," focalizing it in the back part of the 
mouth. Recite the following passages with a clear, pure tone 
and all the power you can command: 



16 scorer's successful recitations 

" Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea; 
Jehovah hath conquered, and his people are free ! " 

" Stand up, stand up for Jesus, 
The trumpet call obey ; 
Forth to the mighty conflict, 
In this his glorious day : 
Ye that are men ! now serve him, 
Against unnumbered foes; 
Your courage rise with danger, 
And strength to strength oppose." 

"Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are! 
And glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry of Navarre! 
Now let there be the merry sound of music and the dance, 
Through thy cornfields green, and sunny vales, O pleasant 

land of France ! 
And thou, Eochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the 

waters; 
Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters; 
As thou were constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, 
For cold and stiff and still are they who wrought thy walls 

annoy. 
Hurrah! hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war. 
Hurrah! hurrah! for Ivy and King Henry of Navarre ! " 

QUALITY. 

Quality relates to the kind of voice. Its natural division 
is into Pure and Impure. 

Pure Quality is recognized as Natural and Orotund. 

Natural Quality of voice is the medium of pure conversa- 
tion; as, "Is it you, Jack? Old boy, is it really you? I 
shouldn't have known you but that I was told you might be 
expected; — pray, how do you do?" 

"So you beg for a story, my darling, my brown-eyed Leopold; 
And you, Alice, with face like morning, and shining locks 

of gold ; 
Then come, if you will, and listen — stand close to my knee — 
To a tale of the Southern city, proud Charleston by the sea." 

The Orotund Quality is the result of the most complete use 
of the vocal organs; it is a highly improved state of the natural 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 17 

voice which gives grandeur and energy to thought and expres- 
sion. It is recognized in three divisions, Effusive, Expulsive, 
and Explosive. 

Effusive Orotund. — In this form of the Orotund the voice 
is poured forth in a continuous stream. It is the voice of 
grand, sublime and reverential thought; as, 

"Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll." 

"O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my 
fathers ! whence are thy beams, O sun! thy everlasting light?' 7 

The Expulsive Orotund, instead of pouring forth in a con- 
tinuous stream as in the Effusive Orotund, issues in the form 
of a short shout. All oratorical styles require this form of 
utterance; as, 

"I do not think I exaggerate when I say that never 
since God made Demosthenes has He made a man better 
fitted for a great work than He did O'Connell. You may say 
that I am partial to my hero : but John Randolph of Roanoke, 
who hated an Irishman almost as much as he did a Yankee, 
when he got to London and heard O'Connell, the old slave- 
holder threw up his hands and exclaimed, 'That is the man, 
those are the lips, the*most eloquent that speak English in my 
day,' and I think he was right! " 

The Explosive Orotund is a strong instantaneous burst 
of the voice with a sharp, clear and sudden effect upon the ear. 
All selections of bold address, anger, hurry and commotion 
come under this head; as, 

"Stormed at with shot and shell, 
Boldly they rode and well : 
Into the jaws of death, 

Into the mouth of hell, 
Rode the six-hundred. " 

IMPURE QUALITY. 

The impure qualities are produced by imperfect action of 
the organs of speech. No voice can be called good which has 
any impure characteristics. All such qualities must be eradi- 
cated by careful and patient training. The reader, however, 
should be able to assume any of the impure qualities of voice, 
in order to imitate a character or express an emotion, but in 
ordinary use they must not be characteristic of the voice. 



18 scorer's successful recitations 

Impure Quality is recognized as Aspirate, Guttural, 
Pectoral and Falsetto. 

In Aspirate Quality the breath preponderates. It is the 
language of surprise, caution, secrecy, fear, etc. 

This is the simplest form of speech. The breath passes 
through the glottis, the vocal chords remaining laxed, into the 
mouth where it is articulated. The supply of breath must be 
full and well controlled, in order to make it audible. The 
chief characteristic of the aspirate quality is distinctness; its 
acquisition is therefore of great value. 

"Hark I hear the bugles of the enemy ! They are on 
their march along the bank of the river ! We must retreat in- 
stantly, or be cut off from our boats ! I see the head of their 
column already rising over the height ! Our only safety is in 
the screen of this hedge. Keep close to it — be silent — and 
stoop as you run ! For the boats ! Forward ! " 

"Ha ! who comes here ? 
I think it is the weakness of mine eyes 
That shapes this monstrous apparition. 
It comes upon me ! Art thou any thing ? 
Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil, 
That makest my blood cold, and nfy hair stand? 
Speak to me what thou art." 

The Guttural Quality is a vicious use of the vocal organs; 
the sounds are harsh and are formed largely in the throat. It 
is used in expressing contempt, aversion, revenge, disgust, etc. 

To acquire this quality utter, in a harsh tone of voice, the 
consonants t, d, j, k, g, and 1 ; also such words as -revenge, 
rage, rancor, havoc, fury, accursed, savage, hence, slave, in- 
human, etc. Do not force the base of the tongue down against 
the back part of the throat, and you will avoid "rasping" it. 

"How like a fawning publican he looks ! 
I hate him for he is a Christian ; 
If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails, 
Even there where merchants most do congregate, 
On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 
Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe, 
If I forgive him ! " 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 19 

The Pectoral Quality is one result of a relaxed condition of 
the vocal organs and is found below the medium register of 
the voice ; it is used to express awe, horror, dread and re- 
morse. It is also the language of supernatural beings. 

" 1 am thy father's spirit; doomed for a certain time to 
walk the night, and for the day confined to fast in fires, till 
the foul crimes done in my days of nature, are burned and 
purged a'way." 

The Falsetto Quality is found above the medium register 
of the voice, as in children's and high-pitched female voices. 
It expresses extreme surprise, mockery, terror, anger, pain, 
affection, etc. 

''Speak no n^ore of Mortimer! Zounds, I will speak of 
him, and let my soul want mercy if I do not join with him." 

"Good night ! Papa, Jessie see you in the morning." 

"Well, ye ain't gom to set there like a bump on a log 
'thout sayin' a word to pay for your vittles, air ye? " 

ARTICULATION. 

Articulation consists in forming and joining the element- 
ary sounds of speech into syllables. The tone as it issues from 
the vocal organs, is shaped by the mouth and nose into definite 
vowel forms, or into consonants by the tongue, teeth, palate 
and lips. 

A good articulation can be acquired by the use of the will, 
by resolution, and by practicing the elementary sounds, both 
separately and in combination. Rigidly practice the vowels 
and consonants and difficult combinations until a distinct ar- 
ticulation is acquired. 

For recreation in articulation, practice "The Two Boot- 
Blacks," page 43, and "A Texas Duel," page 117 of this work. 

DIFFICULT VOWEL SOUNDS. 

The following difficult vowel sounds are often mispro- 
nounced : 



30 scorer's successful recitations 

A, as in arm. 00, as in ooze. 

A, as in ask. 00, as in book. 

A, as in air. U, as in duty. 

E and I, as in her and sir. 

Long Italian a (a) occurs in monosyllables and accented 
syllables, before r final, or r followed by a consonant, also in 
the derivatives of such words. It is frequently mispronounced 
when followed by n't, If, lm, and ch, as in the words can't, 
calf, calm, and mustache, avaunt taunt, daunt, haunt, flaunt, 
qualm, laugh, pardon, psalm, wrath, salve, aunt, balm, palm, 
saunter, laundry, hearth, launch, haunch, half, barn, darn, 
ha, yarn, bath. Form short sentences each containing one of 
the above words. 

Short Italian a (a) differs from the long Italian a only in 
quantity. It is chiefly found in monosyllables, ending in ff, 
ft, sh, sk, sp, st, with a few in nee and n't. Pass class, mass, 
glass, grass, staff, quaff, chaff, raft, cash, ask, bask, mask, last, 
past, mast, gash, rasp, clasp, grasp, hasp, draft, waft, chant, 
slant, grant, lance, chance, advance, avast. 

Medial a (a) is generally followed by r. Avoid a as in 
arm and a as in may. 

Care, dare, rare, lair, hair, stare, bear, pair, prayer, pa- 
rent, flaring, sharing, glaring, declaring, barely, aware, 
scarcely, apparent, tearing. 

E or I followed by r in a monosyllable or an accented 
syllable, in which the r is not followed by another r (merry), 
or a vowel (merit), has the sound of e in her. This is the only 
sound that cannot be given alone. Verge, herd, pearl, learn, 
perch, stern, berth, inter, prefer, earnest, mercy, servant, per- 
fect, certain, defer, jerking, superb, kernel, nerve, herbage, 
person, vertical, mirth, dirk, first, firm, mirky, quirl, quirk, 
gird, sir, dirt, dirl, girl, circulate, circular, circum. 

Long oo and short oo are the same in quality but differ in 
quantity. Boom, boot, cool, coop, doom, food, fool, goose, 
hoof, hoop, hoot, coot, loom, loop, loose, mood, moon, noon, 
ooze, pool, poor, rood, room, roost, soon. Book, brook, cook, 
crook, foot, good, wood, cooper. 

The diphthong u (H) is a combination of short y and long 
oo. The difficulty in uttering this sound is experienced when 
it is preceded by d, t, 1, n, s and th. Short y is formed in the 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 21 

back part of the mouth, and long oo in the extreme front. In 
passing from the preceding letter, which is formed in the front 
part of the mouth, to the u, the y sound is omitted unless care 
is given in pronouncing it. 

Due, durable, tumult, lute, numerous, sue, suit, duke, 
tube, Tuesday, lure, nutriment, student, dupe, tune, lunacy, 
lucid, nucleus, stupid, duty, tutor, Lutheran, nude, numeral, 
superintend, institute, thurible. 

When u is preceded by the sound ch, r, sh, or zh, the y 
is omitted. 

Rue, rule, ruby, rumor," Rufus, Rudolph, sure, rude r 
ruse, ruin, rural, Rupert, chute, surety. 

RHYME AND PRONUNCIATION. 

In reading poetry , rhyme takes 'precedence over pronunciation 
unless the rhyme is absurd. 

In each of the following extracts the word printed in 
small capitals must be pronounced so as to rhyme with the word 
in italics: 

"I loved thee long and dearly Florence Vane, 
My life's bright dream and early hath come again." 

"And hailed him from out their youthful lore, 
With scraps of a slangy repertoire. " 

"Can naught but blood our feud atone f 
Are there no means? " "No, Stranger, none." 

"But herein mean I to enrich my pain, 
To have his sight thither and back again." 

"Two bosoms interchained with an oath; 
So then, two bosoms, and a single troth." 

"About the wood go swifter than wind, 
And Helena of Athens look thou find." 

"Threw down his target and his plaid, 
And to the Lowland warrior said," 

"Two bats for patterns, curious fellows; 
A charcoal pot and a pair of bellows." 

No definite rule can be laid down to determine when 



22 scorer's successful recitations 

rhyme is absurd. Use common sense and consider custom and 
poetic license. The following are examples of conceded ab- 
surd rhyme: 

"The infant a mother attended and loved; 
The mother that infant's affection who proved." 

"For we are the same our fathers have been; 
We see the same sights our fathers have seen." 

"But now he walks the streets, 
And he looks at all he meets 

So for lorn; 
And he shakes his feeble head, 
That it seems as if he said, 

They are gone." 

" 'Tis the last rose of summer, 
Left blooming alone; 
All her lovely companions 
Are faded and gone." 

"Not like bluff Harry's radiant queen , 
But rather as she might have been." 

MELODY. 

The effect of Pitch, employed on all the words of a sen- 
tence, is called the Melody of Speech. 

Current Melody is the effect of the rise and fall of the 
voice, employed on all the syllables of a sentence, except the 
last three, and is produced partly in the concrete and partly 
in the discrete scale. 

The beauty of Current Melody consists in skillfully varying 
the pitch of the phrases as they progress, and in properly 
managing the rise and fall within the whole range of inton- 
ation. In unimpassioned speech, the voice in passing from 
one syllable to another, passes concretely through a whole tone 
on the musical scale. In impassioned speech, it may traverse 
the octave. In pathos, semitones predominate. 

"I cannot vouch my tale is true, nor say indeed 'tis 
wholly new; but true or false, or new or old, I think you'll 
find it fairly told." 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 23 

In impassioned speech, the voice may traverse the octave. 

"How say'st thou now? 
These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true ; 
And, Saxon, — I am Roderick Dhu ! " 

In pathos, semitones predominate. 

" Cold is thy brow, my son! and I am chill, as to my 
bosom 1 have tried to press thee! " 

Melody of the Cadence. — The intonation, applied to the last 
three syllables of a positive, declarative sentence, constitutes the 
Melody of the Cadence. To improve the melody of your 
voice, practice upon the passages given in the chapter on 
Serenity, Beauty, Love and Tranquility. 

PAUSES. 



THE RHETORICAL PAUSE. 

Attention to this pause, which is simply a breathing place 
or "gesture of the mind," is essential to good reading. 

The rhetorical pause is as manifest to the ear, as is the gram- 
matical though not denoted by any visible sign. It wins the at- 
tention of your hearers, causes them to take in the portion of 
the thought just uttered and stimulates their imagination to 
conceive of what follows. The pause is made either before or 
after the utterance of an important word or phrase, on which 
it is especially desired to fix attention. A pause before the 
utterance of the important word or phrase awakens curiosity 
and excites expectation. 

"When a mere child I once drew | a cart load of raw 
turnips over a wooden bridge. The people of the village 
noticed me ; I drew | their attention. I have always been 
more or less mixed up with art ; I have an uncle who takes | 
photographs, and I have a servant who takes | any thing he 
can get his hands on." 

The rhetorical pauses are here represented to the eye by 
perpendicular strokes. 

When the pause occurs after the utterance of the import- 
ant word or phrase, it carries the mind back to what has 
already been said. 



24 scorer's successful recitations 

"While stands the Coliseum, Kome shall stand; j 
When falls the Coliseum, Eome shall fall. | " 

"The voice of Heaven summons you in these hours | when 
the leaves fall, and the winter is gathering." 

A pause should always be made after an emphatic word 
and before and after a quotation. 

GRAMMATICAL PAUSES. 

The Grammatical Pauses, indicated by the punctuation 
marks, are used to give the author's meaning. The character 
of the utterance must determine their length. If the utterance 
is slow, the pauses will be longer than if the utterance is rapid. 

The Comma denotes a momentary suspension of the 
thought, hence there must be a corresponding suspension of 
the voice. The voice is simply suspended with a very slight 
upward concrete or vanish. 

"Since ever the world was fashioned, 
Water, and air, and sod, 
A music of divers meaning 

Has flowed from the hand of God." 

The Semicolon indicates the partial closing of , -_ 

the sense. The voice on the word preceding the #/ ' 

semicolon, passes through three notes, alternately 
a tone below and above the other, with a downward vanish on 
the third. 

"Doing well is the cause of a just sense of elevation of 
character; it clears and strengthens the spirits; it gives higher 
reaches of thought; it widens our benevolence, and makes the 
current of our peculiar affections swift and deep." 

The Period usually denotes a complete closing 
of the sense and is made with the successively m m 

downward radicals, from the key note of the cur- """" ^ 

rent melody on the last three syllables of the sentence. The 
vanish, on the third radical, is downward to bring the current 
to a complete close. In the above sentence illustrating the use 
of the semicolon, the intonation is applied to the words swift 
and deep. 

If the sense is not completed, being bound up in that 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 25 

which follows, the intonation is that of the semicolon. 

"Doing well has something more in it than the fulfilling 
of a duty. It is the cause of, etc." 

At the period, in the above sentence, the intonation is 
that of the semicolon. The thought is not complete as it is 
bound up in the sentence which follows — it is only a partial 
closing of the sense. 

The Penultimate Slide is a simple upward slide of the voice 
on the last word of the penultimate clause, for the purpose of 
getting a good ending. This slide is used in selections of so- 
lemnity, love, beauty, tranquility and serenity; the effusive orotund 
and the expulsive orotund. 

"Over the rail my hand I trail 
Within the shadow of the sail, 
A joy intense, the cooling sense / , 
Glides down my drowsy indolence." 

"* * * are thrown out into one vast anarchy, wheel- 
ing and hurtling through the regions of space / without a law- 
giver and without a head." 

Place the penultimate slide on the words printed in italics. 

The Interrogation. Direct questions, or those that cannot 
be answered by yes or no, take the rising inflection. 

"Has there any old fellow got mixed with the boys 7 ? " 

"King Agrippa believest thou the prophets 7 ? " 

Repeated questions take the rising inflection. 

"What is my name 7 ? Wild Zingarella." 

"Where was I born 7 ? Far up in yon Sierra Nevadas." 

An interrogative sentence, which cannot be answered by 
yes or no, takes the falling inflection. 

"Why was I born to taste this depth of woe v ? 
Why closed not darkness over my infant life v ? " 

"Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth v ? 
Who filled thy countenance with rosy light v ? 
Who made thee parent of perpetual streams N ? " 



26 scorer's successful recitations 

There is a class of sentences, the first part of which is in- 
terrogative and the latter part declarative, to which I desire to 
call attention. Instead of placing the interrogation point at 
the end of the sentence, it would be better to place it immedi- 
ately after the interrogative words and close the sentence with 
a period. Only that part of the sentence which is interroga- 
tive should be read interrogatively. 

Note the punctuation in the following sentence : " Shall 
we compare him with Peter the Great of Russia, who flour- 
ished in the beginning of the century, and hewed that political 
Colossus of the North into form and symmetry ?" The first 
part of the sentence only is interrogative. It is not a question 
as to whether or not he "flourished in the beginning of the 
century, etc." History records that he did. The sentence 
should be punctuated as follows, and then there would be no 
danger of pupils reading it as wholly interrogative: "Shall 
we compare him with Peter the Great of Eussia ? who flour- 
ished in the beginning of the century, and hewed that politi- 
cal Colossus of the North into form and symmetry. " 

"Or shall we compare him with Frederick the Second of 
Prussia? to whom complacent public opinion has also accorded 
the epithet of 'Great'." 

"Shall our coffers then 
Be emptied, to redeem a traitor home? 
Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears 
When they have lost and forfeited themselves." 

The Exclamation. A sentence, exclamatory in form, may 
be either declarative or interrogative in spirit. 

"Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frostM 
Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nestM 
Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain-stormM 
Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praiseM " 

"What if I have wronged my fellow men as well 7 ! " 

"Not care for gold ! 'Twas all she cared for 7 ." 

The Parenthesis. The parenthetical clause or sentence 
should be read in a lower tone, and faster time than the main 
text, unless the idea contained in the parenthesis is important. 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 27 

THE EXPRESSION OF THE IDEA. 

Emphasis is the mind's valuation of thought in expression 
and consists in making one or more words of a sentence stand 
out more prominently than the other words of the sentence. 

If we would read as we speak, we must read ideas and not 
words, and speak all the words of a group, with one impulse 
of mind and voice. 

Pronounce, or write upon the blackboard, the words 
"H-o-r-s-e," "£7-e-phant," " In-di-vid-u-aZ-i-ty," or the 
sentences: "The flowers are fading. " "The sun has hid his 
rays." The first thought that will flash across the mind of the 
student, will be the idea represented — the mental conception 
of the subject. 

All the words of a group should be uttered with one im- 
pulse of mind and voice just as we would utter the word 
i 'individuality.' ' 

RULES FOR EMPHASIS. 

1 . Every word expressing a new idea requires emphasis, 

2. Words expressing that which is well known or understood > 
that about which nobody has any doubt, that which everybody con- 
cedes, need no emphasis. 

The subject and predicate of a sentence are usually em- 
phatic. Articles, pronouns, conjunctions, etc., are, as a rule, 
unemphatic, though any part of speech may sometimes become 
emphatic. 

The sentence, "Elocution is a useful study/ ' involves both 
rules. 

"Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss." In this; 
sentence, Patrick Henry desires to make the idea of non- 
betrayal emphatic and not that of the amount of the considera- 
tion of their betrayal. 

"But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best 
robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes 
on his feet." The only emphatic words are, best robe, ring 
and shoes. 

Determine the emphatic words in the following sentences: 
" Are you going to the city to-day?" "Love laughs at lock- 
smiths." "Thy duty has been nobly done." "And it was the 



28 scorer's successful recitations 

Sabbath day that the Lord made the clay and opened his 
eyes." " Heaven consists of all that is good and true; but 
Hell consists of all that is false and evil." "Slaves cannot 
breathe in England." "Speak the speech I pray you, as I 
pronounced it to you, — trippingly on the tongue; but if you 
mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town- 
crier spoke my lines." "I have gathered a posy of other 
men's flowers; nothing but the thread that binds them is my 
own." From the work-shop of the Golden Key, there issued 
a tinkling sound, so merry and good humored, that it sug- 
gested the idea of some one working blithely, and made quite 
pleasant music." 

"And had he not high honor? 

The hill-side for his pall ; 
To lie in state while angels wait 

With stars for tapers tall ; 
And the dark rock pines, like tossing plumes, 

Over his bier to wave ; 
And God's own hand, in that lonely land, 

To lay him in the grave ! ' ' 

In many cases the emphasis cannot be determined cor- 
rectly without knowing the context. 

Cassius — Do not presume too much upon my love; 
I may do that I shall be sorry for. 

Brutus — You have done that you should be sorry for. 

Here the words "may" and "shall" in the speech of 
Cassius are contrasted with the words "have" and "sorry." 
Without the context, the following would be the reading: 
"You have done that you should be sorry for." 

A word or phrase is sometimes repeated for the purpose of 
more emphasis; as, 

"To arms! to arms ! to ARMS ! they cry." 

"The charge is utterly, totally, MEANLY false." 

"Ay cluster there ! Cling to your master, judges, Romans, 
SLAVES!" 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 29 

"I defy the honorable gentleman; I defy the government; 
I defy the whole PHALANX." 

Ideas are made clear and distinct : 

1. By giving the words with greater force than the other 
words of the sentence. 

2. By giving the words more time than the other words 
of the sentence. When the accented syllables are open and 
long, the emphasis of time is much more thoughtful and grace- 
ful than that of force. 

In the following examples the words requiring emphasis 
by force are printed in italics and those requiring emphasis by 
time in small capitals: 

"Dear, gentle, patient) noble Xell was dead. Xo sleep so 

BEAUTIFUL and CALM." 

"Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful world, 
With the wonderful water round ye curled, 
And the wonderful grass upon your breast — 
World, ye are beautifully drest." 

3. By an upward or downward slide of the voice on the 
finish of the accented syllable of the word to be emphasized; as, 
Are you going to the city to-day ? 

4. By rhetorical pauses. 

"My heart was wounded j with the arrow of affliction, and 
my eyes became dim | with sorrow." 

The long sounds of the vowels take emphasis by time; the 
short sounds emphasis by force or slide. 

The power of emphasis depends upon concentration and 
proper distribution. These two principles should constantly 
be borne in mind. Don't emphasize too many words. Where 
all are generals, there are no privates. 

PITCH. 

The High and the Low of the voice is called Pitch. It is 
a modification of voice to express feeling, and is recognized as 
Medium, High and Low. It may, however, be still further 
subdivided. 

If the middle register or pitch of the voice is too high or 



30 scorer's successful recitations 

too low, it should, with due care, be trained up or down the 
scale. 

The sentiment of a passage determines its Pitch. 

Medium Pitch is employed in all unemotional language. 

"Blessed are the merciful : for they shall obtain mercy. 
Blessed are the pure in heart : for they shall see God." 

High Pitch is used in shouting, command, joy and extreme 
grief. To secure High Pitch, begin at the middle register of 
the voice and ascend the musical scale four notes. 

"On with the dance! let joy be unconfined ; 
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet 
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet." 

Low Pitch. — Solemnity, melancholy, reverence, awe and 
language of the supernatural require Low Pitch. For Low 
Pitch, descend the musical scale four notes from the middle 
register of the voice. 

" 'Tis midnight's holy hour, — and silence now 
Is brooding like a gentle spirit o'er 
The still and pulseless world. Hark ! on the winds 
The bell's deep tones are swelling — 'tis the knell 
Of the departed year." 

FOKCE. 

Force relates to the power or loudness of the voice. It is 
the application of strength of voice in different degrees to 
express emotion and may be considered the light and shade of 
proper intonation. 

Many persons do not discriminate between force and 
pitch. Kemember that the one relates to the power, the other to 
the high and low, of the voice. 

Force is known as Standard and Emphatic. 

Standard Force is that general force given to all the words. 

Emphatic Force is that special force given to the emphatic 
words. 

The Standard Force varies with the general spirit of the 
selection; the Emphatic Force with the distinctive ideas. All 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 31 

unemotional ideas require moderate force; earnest ideas, full 
force, and subdued ideas, soft force. 

MODERATE FOECE. 

"It was a most interesting case. Mr. Groly was driven into 
our church one Sabbath by a shower of rain; and into whose 
pew should he come but ours. We noticed that Dr. Daidlaw's 
sermon affected him most powerfully, and he told us himself 
afterwards that he went away that day a new man." 

FULL FORCE. 

"Oh! dwellers in the nether gloom, avengers of the slain, 
By this dear blood I cry to you, do right between us twain; 
And even as Appius Claudius hath dealt by me and mine, 
Deal you by Appius Claudius and all the Claudiun line ! " 

SOFT FORCE. 
"Perhaps, in the silent valley of death, the little one was 
thinking of the merry spring-time she had hoped to see." 

SLIDES OF THE VOICE. 

The Slide is a continuous movement of the voice from one 
pitch to another. 

Slides are Rising (') and Falling ( v ), and when united are 
known as the Wave or Circumflex (A V). 

Positive Language takes the Falling Slide; as, 

"The war must v go on. N We must N fight it through. v " 

This slide creates a feeling of completion and gives power 
and strength to words. 

Negative or Doubtful Language takes the Rising Slide; as, 

"This is no Grecian fable of fountains running wine/ 
Of maids with snaky tresses 7 or sailors turned to swine/" 

This slide gives beauty and variety to the words. 

"Come, read x to me some poem v — 

Some simple^ and heart K -£elt lay, 
* * * * * 

Isot from the grand old masters/ 
£Tot from the bards sublime/ 



32 scorer's successful recitations 

Read from some humbler^ poet, 
Whose songs gushed from the hearty 
As showers^ from the clouds of summer^ 
Or tears s from the eyelids^ start." 

The sense and not the form of expression determines the 
inflections. 

"Is that 7 the best 7 you can do 7 ? " would be the reading if 
we were in doubt; but when we know certainly that it is not, 
we should read it, "Is that N the best v you can do v ? " 

When the terms of a sentence are arranged in twos, the 
first half of each term takes the rising slide and the second 
half the falling slide. "Sink 7 or swim, N live 7 or die, v sur 7 vive 
or per N ish, I give my hand 7 and my heart N to this vote." 

When the terms of a sentence are arranged in threes, the 
voice is suspended on the first third of each term, goes up on 
the second third and down on the last third. "A man who 
united the wisdom of a philosopher and .the policy of a great 
prince with the tastes of a sayter, the manners of a barbarian, 7 
and the passions of a fiend. v " 

"The fearless soldier the profound strategist, the 
heroic chief v ! " 

The wave or circumflex is known as the Rising and Fall- 
ing Circumflex and is used to express irony, doubt, scorn, 
reproach, contempt, implication, raillery, etc. The voice 
touches strongly and distinctly on the opening and the closing 
of the word, and passes lightly over the middle part. 

The rising circumflex begins with the falling, and ends 
with the rising slide, the falling circumflex begins with the 
rising, and ends with the falling. 

Positive assertions require the falling, and negative or 

doubtful assertions the rising circumflex. "Banished from 
Rome ! What's banished but set free from daily contact of 
the things I loathe?" 

MONOTONE. 

The Monotone is simply the absence of Melody. It is a 
near approach to one continuous tone of voice and indicates 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 33 

solemnity, power, reverence and dread. It is much used in 
reading the Bible and the church service. The time is usually 
slow. Monotone must not be confounded with monotony. 

TIME. 

Time relates to the rapidity of the utterances. It gives 
smoothness and is essential to agreeable speech. The prevail- 
ing spirit of a selection will determine the standard rate of 
utterance. The standard time is medium if the prevailing 
spirit is unemotional. 

"Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, 
and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a 
tinkling cymbal." 

In language of gayety and hasty action, the standard time 
is rapid. 

"And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, 
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, 
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, 
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war." 

In language of solemnity, awe and slow movement, the 
standard time is slow. 

"The stillness of the house was death -like — all save the 
measured beat of the old clock on the mantle, with its agoniz- 
ing throb — throb — throb ! " 

Time may be still further subdivided by the reader. 

BEADING OF QUOTATIONS 

The time given to the reading of a quotation will be de- 
termined by the character and importance of the idea. 

STKESS. 

Stress is a special force applied to individual sounds. 

Radical Stress ^— is the application of sudden force to 
the opening of a tonic element as in the act of coughing. It 
is used in anger, fear, determined will, earnest argument, etc. 

"You common cry of curs ! whose breath I hate 
As reek o J the rotten fens, — whose loves I prize 
As the dead carcasses of unburied men, 
That do corrupt my air, — I banish you." 



34 scorer's successful recitations 

Thorough Stress Hi is the application of an even force to 
all parts of a sound as in oratorical styles. 

" It is a grave thing when a State puts a man among her 
jewels, the glitter of whose fame makes doubtful acts look 
heroic/ ' 

Vanishing Stress — ^ is sudden force applied to the close or 
vanish of a tonic element. It is the natural utterance of de- 
termined purpose, contempt, fierce and obstinate will. 

"I'll have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak; I'll have 
my bond ; and therefore speak no more." 

In Median Stress *♦■ the force swells out at the middle of 
the sound and is used in sentimental, grand, sublime and rev- 
erential styles. The characteristics of this stress are dignity 
and smoothness. It gives emphasis without abruptness. 

"O lovely Mary Donnelly, it's you I love the best ! 
If fifty girls were around you, I'd hardly see the rest ; 
Be what it may the time of day, the place be where it will, 
Sweet looks of Mary Donnelly, they bloom before me still." 

Tremor or Intermittent Stress is a trembling of the voice 
which occurs in all emotions that enfeeble it. It expresses 
feebleness, old age, fatigue, grief, intense emotion, etc. 

"O father Abbot, 
An old man, broken with the storms of state, 
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; 
Give him. a little earth for charity." 

CLIMAX. 

A Climax is a gradual rising in importance in the thought. 
Either words or phrases forming a climax should have more 
force or time given to each successive one. 

Now, blue-eyed Saxon, proud of your race, go back with 
me to the commencement of the century, and select what 
statesman you please. Let him be either American or 
European; let him have a brain the result of six generations 
of culture; let him have the ripest training of university 
routine ; let him add to it the better education of practical life; 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 35 

crown his temples with the silver of seventy years; and show 
me the man of Saxon lineage for whom his most sanguine 
admirer will wreathe a laurel rich as embittered foes have 
placed on the brow of this negro. — Phillips. 

EXPKESSION. 

Expression is the utterance of words with their accom- 
panying Emotions; suiting the voice to the thought to be ex- 
pressed by a corresponding feeling or emotion. 

Give life, coloring and reality to the mental picture by 
throwing yourself into the spirit of what you read. Learn to 
feel. 

The reader must be physically as Veil as mentally in ear- 
nest. He must have energy, fire, animal galvanism — in other 
words, physical earnestness. He must put in motion a current 
of sympathy between speaker and hearer. 

"The working of the body to the advantage of the mind is 
physical earnestness, and the speaker who lacks it comes far 
short of his duty. An impression is produced upon the hearer 
quite apart from and often in spite of the words uttered. It is 
a mesmeric influence, it is a reflection, it is feeling, it is 
thought produced by the physical earnestness of the speaker 
who is a galvanic battery on two legs. An influence goes out 
of the speaker thrilling the hearer with emotion." 

If you would keep your audience awake, do not allow 
yourself to go physically asleep. 



PATHOS. 

PKINCIPLES INVOLVED. 

1. Natural voice. — The medium of pure conversation. 

2. Effusive utterance. — The voice is poured forth in a con- 
tinuous stream. 

3. Slide of semitone. — The progress of pitch through the 
interval of a half note on the musical scale. "It may be well 
to note that this pathetic slide is not measured by a half tone 
in all cases, but follows the voice in all its movements up and 
down the scale on the third, fifth and octave, always vanish- 
ing, however, on a minor chord." 



36 scorer's successful recitations 

This slide must be handled very delicately or pathos will 
be turned into burlesque. 

"Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean; 
Tears from the depth of some divine despair 
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, 
In looking on the happy autumn fields, 
And thinking of the days that are no more." 

"Ah, Hal, I'll try ; 
But in my throat there's something chokes, 
Because you see, I've thought so long 
To count her in among our folks. 
I s'pose she must be happy now, 
But still I will keep thinking too, 
I could have kept all trouble off 
By being tender, kind and true. 
But maybe not, she's safe up there, 
And when the Hand deals other strokes, 
She'll stand at Heaven's gate, I know, 
And wait to welcome in our folks." 

"She sobbed, wringing her thin, white hands: Oh! I 
can't believe it! My babies ! Oh, my babies! how often have I 
held them in my arms and kissed them; and how often they 
used to say back to me, 'I loves 'ou mamma,' and now, O 
God! they've turned against me. Where am I going? To 
the poor-house ! No! no! no! I cannot! 1 will not! Oh, 
the disgrace; O God ! spare me this and take me home ! " 

And all at once the old man burst into sobs : — 

"I have been to blame — to blame ! I have killed my son ! 
I have killed him — but I loved him — my dear son ! 
May God forgive me ! — I have been to blame. 
Kiss me, my children ! " — Tennyson's Dora. 

REPRESENTATIVE SELECTIONS. 

Pictures of Memory, Alice Cary. The Bridge of Sighs, 
Hood. Bingen on the Rhine, Norton. Our Folks, Lynn. 

Note. — The reader or speaker degrades his speech, when 
he allows himself to shed tears. To influence others, we must 
control ourselves. The artist controls and is not controlled. 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 37 

SOLEMNITY. 

Principles Involved. — Natural Voice, Effusive Utterance 
and Low Pitch. 

In this, as in the reading of pathos, natural voice and effu- 
sive utterance are used, but instead of slide of semitone, as in 
pathos, low pitch is required. To secure low pitch, begin at the 
middle register of the voice, and descend the musical scale 
four notes. 

Solemnity and pathos are different degrees of sorrow ; the 
former less than the latter. 

"How still and peaceful is the grave, 
Where, — life's vain tumults past, — 
The appointed house, by Heaven's decree, 
Receives us all at last ! ' ' 

Representative selection, page 96 of this work. 

SERENITY, BEAUTY, LOVE AND TRANQUILITY. 

Principles Involved. — Natural Voice, Effusive Utterance 
and High Pitch. 

To secure High Pitch, begin at the middle register of the 
voice and ascend the musical scale four notes. 

"Was it the chime of a tiny bell 

That came so sweet to my dreaming ear, 
Like the silvery tone of a fairy's shell, 

That he winds on the beach so mellow and clear, 
When the winds and the waves lie together asleep, 

And the moon and the fairy are watching the deep, 
She dispensing her silvery light, 
And he his notes as silvery quite, 

While the boatman listens and ships his oar, 
To catch the music that comes from the shore : 

Hark ! the notes on my ear that play, 
Are set to words : as they float, they say, 

'Passing away ! passing away ! ' " 

Representative selection, page 115 of this book. 



38 scorer's successful recitations 

GAYETY. 

Selections of Gayety require great variety of intonation^ 
rapid movement and high pitch. Flexibility of voice is 
indispensable. 

"T' other day, as I was twining 
Koses for a crown to dine in, 
What, of all things, midst the heap, 
Should I light on, fast asleep, 
But the little desperate elf, — 
The tiny traitor, — Love himself ! 
By the wings I pinched him up 
Like a bee, and in a cup 
Of my wine I plunged and sank him ; 
And what d'ye think I did ? — I drank him ! 
Faith, I thought him dead. Not he ! 
There he lives with tenfold glee ; 
And now this moment, with his wings, 
I feel him tickling my heart-strings." 

Representative selection, Daffodils, page 158, 

GRAND, SUBLIME and REVERENTIAL SELECTIONS 

Require the Effusive Orotund form of expression. 

"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, 

There is a rapture on the lonely shore, 
There is society, where none intrudes, 

By the deep sea, and music in its roar. 
I love not man the less, but Nature more, 

From these our interviews, in which I steal 
From all I may be, or have been before, 

To mingle with the universe, and feel 
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.' , 

Representative selection, page 77. 

ORATORY 

Is elevated talk or dignified conversation and requires the 
Expulsive form of Orotund. The speaker in public places needs 
a greater fullness and strength of voice than the ordinary con- 
versational power of expression. This form of expression re- 
quires a separate expulsion of breath for each word or syllable. 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 39 

Oratory is not the gift of nature alone. It it is the reward 
of assiduous effort and perfection in this art is the work of 
time and labor. 

One, one, one, one, one, one, one. 

Mv Lords, you have now heard the principles on which 
Mr. Hastings governs the part of Asia subjected to the British 
empire. Here he has declared his opinion, that he is a 
despotic prince ; that he is to use arbitrary power ; and, of 
course, all his acts are covered with that shield. "I know," 
says he, "The Constitution of Asia only from its practice." 
Will your Lordships submit to hear the corrupt practices of 
mankind made the principles of Government? — Burke, 

Representative selections, pages 111, 123, 124, 130. 

SELECTIONS OF ANGER, HURRY AND COMMOTION 

Require the Explosive form of expression. 

"Yield, madman, yield ! thy horse is down, 
Thou hast nor lance nor shield ; 
Fly !— I will grant thee time." "This flag 
Can neither fly nor yield ! " 

Representative selections, pages 30, 87. 

HUMOROUS SELECTIONS 

Require great variety in intonation, with sudden flights of 
the voice from low pitch to very high pitch. The upper tones 
of the voice are peculiarly adapted to this style of selections. 

NARRATIVE, DESCRIPTIVE AND DIDACTIC 
SELECTIONS 

Require purity and variety of tone and distinctness of enun- 
ciation. They sometimes involve all the principles of the 
preceding styles. 

NARRATIVE. 

"At noon he scratched out a letter, blotted and very 
strangely scrawled, telling Nora what had happened ; and 
those who observed him noticed that he had no meat with his 
dinner. Indeed from that moment he lived on bread, pota- 



40 scorer's successful recitations 

toes and cold water, and worked as few men ever worked 
before. — It grew to be the talk of the shop, and now that sym- 
pathy was excited every one wanted to help Connor. Jobs 
were thrown in his way, kind words and friendly wishes helped 
him mightily; but no power could make him share the food 
or drink of any other workman. It seemed a sort of charity 
to him." 

DESCKIPTIVE. 

"In fact Doctor B limber's establishment was a great hot- 
house, in which there was a forcing apparatus incessantly at 
work. All the boys blew before their time. Mental green 
peas were produced at Christmas, and intellectual asparagus 
all the year round." 

DIDACTIC. 

"Speak the speech I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, 
— trippingly on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as many of 
our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. 
Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but 
use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may 
say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a 
temperance, that may give it smoothness. Oh ! it offends me 
to the soul, to hear a robustious perwig-pated fellow tear a 
passion to tatters, — to very rags, — to split the ears of the 
groundlings; who, for the most part, are capable of nothing 
but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise. I would have such a 
fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant: It out-Herods Herod . 
Pray you, avoid it." 

BIBLE BEADING. 

The reading of the sacred word requires the application 
of every principle in Elocution, and no where is Expression 
more richly rewarded. 

The Bible should be read in a dignified, manly manner. 
Avoid any style that is professional, inflated, flippant or familiar. 
Mass all the words, phrases, clauses, or sentences which ex- 
press a unit or one idea in one paragraph. 

For the purpose of reading, the Bible may be classified 
as follows : 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 41 

NARRATIVE PASSAGES. 

The Plain Narrative consists of the simple stories of the 
Bible. Genesis 4, 1-15. 2 Kings, 23. Luke 15, 11-32. St. 
John 9; 11. 

Tfie Elevated Narrative sometimes dips into the sublime; as, 
Exodus 3. 1 Kings 8, 1-63. The Acts 2, 14-41; 26, 1-30. 

DIDACTIC PASSAGES. 

Matthew 5; 6; 7. St. John 3, 1-21; 10, 1-19; 14. Romans 
3; 5; 8. 1 Corinthians 13; 15. Ephesians 4. 2 Corin- 
thians 6. 

PASSAGES OF GRANDEUR, SUBLIMITY AND 
MAJESTY. 

From the Prophetic writings. Job 38. Psalms 8; 18; 19; 
29; 97; 113; 145. Isaiah 40; 53; 54; 55. Jeremiah 6; 7; 14; 22; 
31. Habakkuk 3. Revelation 21. 

Tranquility. — Psalm 23. 

PATHOS AND ENTREATY. 
Psalms 6; 38; 39; 88; 142; 143. 

SOLEMNITY AND AWE. 

Psalms 77, 10-20; 90; 103; 104; 139. 

The student will find it profitable to increase the above 
lists of representative passages. 

HYMN READING. 

Nearly all Hymns are prayers in material form, and re- 
quire the Effusive Orotund form of utterance. Revelations, 
the greater part of the Old Testament and the Liturgy also 
employ the Effusive Orotund. 

IMPERSONATION 

Is the representation, by a single person, of the words, man- 
ners, and actions of several persons. The coloring of the 
voice, the mental and physical peculiarities must all be in har- 
mony with the character to be represented ; they must be 
appropriate to the expression of the required thought. Imper- 
sonation requires careful study, with good judgment in its use. 
The characters should be represented as speaking on the 



42 scorer's successful recitations 

oblique lines, while the words of the narrator should be given 
on the front line. 

DIALECT. 

Is the characteristic coloring given to speech by local 
peculiarities or specific circumstances. The peculiar tone- 
coloring of the various dialects can be acquired by listening 
carefully to the conversation of those whom you wish to im- 
itate, or by training under one who is skilled in this line of 
work. 

The Yankee uses a nasal drawl and is careless in pronun- 
ciation. 

In the German w is sounded like v, 'wait' vait, etc.; th 
hard like d, 'that' dot, etc.; th at end of a word like t, 'health' 
helt, etc.; b like p and d like t, 'bad' pat, etc.; v like/, 'never' 
nefer, etc.; j like y; 'Jacob,' Yacup, etc.; k has a guttural sound 
best represented by kh; r is always rolled or roughly trilled 
when followed by a vowel, and words of one syllable often 
sounded as though possessing two, 'out' ow~et, etc. 

"My name it vas Fader Gander, 
Und I come vrom ofer yonder 
Ofer de hills, past Shones's Mills — 
It vas efer so far avay. 
I came vrom a town in Yonderland, 
It 's a peautiful blace, you must understand, 
Vhere dhey nefer get late, dhey vas alvays on handt, 
But it 's efer so far avay." 

The Irishman uses short quantity, striking the syllables 
with a sharp percussive stroke, speaking each quickly and cut- 
ting off the sound abruptly; roll or trill all r's when they follow 
a vowel, which is never permissible in English ; pronounce 
long o like ow, 'old' owld, 'roll' rowl, 'soul' sowl, etc.; short i 
nearly like long e, 'tin' teen, etc.; er like ar, 'serve' sarve, etc.; 
short e like short i, 'well' will, etc.; long e like long a, 'beat' 
bate, etc.; short a like short o, 'man' mon, etc. 

The words feet, sweet, indeed, etc., should not be pro- 
nounced "fate," "swate," "indade." An Irishman invari- 
ably gives the double e its proper sound. 

In some of the dialects the spelling serves as an index to 
the pronunciation. 



scorer's successful recitations 43 

GESTURE 

Is the manifestation of thought and feeling by means of 
the head, arms and limbs. 

PRINCIPAL POSITIONS OF THE FEET. 

Right Front. — Right foot in advance, with the toes at an 
angle of about seventy degrees. The heel of the advanced 
foot should be on a line with the instep of the rear foot. 

Left Front. — The relations of the feet are reversed. 

SECONDARY POSITIONS. 

Right Lateral. — Turn to the right from a left front posi- 
tion, pivoting on the balls of the feet. 

Left Lateral. — Turn to the left from a right front position* 

EXPRESSIVE MOVEMENTS OF THE LIMBS. 

1. Congenial Position. Weight of body resting on the 
rear foot with the advanced knee slightly bent. The congenial 
positions are employed in expressing the quiet and genial 
states of the mind. 

2. Moderate Congenial Position. A short graceful step 
forward, advancing body. 

3. Strong Congenial Position. A long graceful step for- 
ward. The advanced knee should be pushed forward to a 
line with the toe, the rear foot resting lightly upon the toe. 

4. Emphatic Position. Knees extended, with the weight 
of the body resting on both feet. The emphatic positions are 
employed to express bold, energetic and impassioned ideas. 

5. Moderate Emphatic Position. A short abrupt step for- 
ward, advancing the body, the knees extended. 

6. Strong Emphatic Position. A long abrupt step for- 
ward, advancing the body. Bring the advanced knee forward 
to a line with the toe. The rear foot must rest fiat upon the 
floor. 

7. Aversive Position. A very short abrupt step backward 
with the rear foot. In the aversive positions the hands should 
be brought up on a line with the advanced limb. The height 
of the hands will depend upon the degree of aversion or the 
position of the aversive object. 



44 AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 

8. Moderate Aversive Position. A short abrupt step back- 
ward with the advanced foot. 

9. Strong Aversive Position. A long abrupt step back- 
ward with the advanced foot. 

10. Concentrative or Base Position. Heels together, 
weight of body resting on both feet. This position signifies 
egotism, conceit, etc. 

11. Moderate Concentrative. Feet apart on the lateral 
lines. This is a position of vulgar repose, assumed in fatigue 
and in impersonating children and old people. 

12. Impersonative Positions. Positions assumed in imita- 
tion of a character, real or imagined. 

13. Kneeling Positions, (a.) Slide the advanced foot for- 
ward on the oblique line and rest upon the rear knee. 

(6.) Slide the rear foot backward on the oblique line and 
rest upon the rear knee. 

14. Bowing Movements, (a.) Advance to position on the 
platform and halt with the right foot in advance. Without 
pausing, draw the advanced foot back to the concentrative 
position; then bow by bending forward at the hips, allowing 
the hands to fall forward and into the lap. Keep the eyes on 
a line with the person or persons to whom you are bowing. 
Immediately after the bow resume the right front position, 
afterwards changing to the position the selection may 
demand. 

(b.) After advancing to position take along graceful step 
backward, at the same time inclining the body forward by 
bending at the hips, allowing the hands to fall into the lap. 

15. Betiring Movement. In retiring from the platform 
take three or four steps backward inclining the body forward 
on a line with the advanced limb. 

AEM MOVEMENTS. 

The principal lines followed by the arms in gesture are, 
Front, Front Oblique, Lateral and Hear Oblique. 

USES OF THE PKINCIPAL LINES. 

Front to Lateral denotes expansion of thought; as, u l ap- 
peal to youy sir; to the whole assembly, YEA TO THE 
WHOLE WOKLD!" 



45 

Lateral to Front denotes increase of: force or directness; as, 
" To such usurpation I will never submit; I repeat it, sir, I 
will never submit; I WILL DIE FIEST ! " 

SUB-LINES, 

Each principal line has three sub-lines; the Descending, 
the Horizontal and the Ascending. The Descending line is 
used in referring to objects, real or imagined, located below; 
low, base and groveling ideas. "See how that rug, those rep- 
tiles soil." 

The Ascending line is used in referring to objects, real or 
imagined, located above; pure and elevating thoughts. "The 
very trees were stripped and bare." 

Plain statement, ordinary description, in short everything 
else takes the Horizontal line. 

Curved lines are congenial. Straight lines are emphatic. 

POSITIONS OF THE HANDS. 

The positions of the open hands are, Prone, Vertical and 
Supine. 

The Prone Position denotes super-position, one fact or 
principle resting upon another; also death and destruction. 
"Darkness covered the entire earth." 

The Vertical Position denotes aversion; as, " Eed as 
blood." 

The Supine Position is used in ordinary debate, assertion, 
etc. "The war must go on." 

KINDS OF GESTURE. 

The two general divisions of gesture are Objective and Sub- 
jective. Objective Gestures refer to that which is without the 
body and are known as Designative, Descriptive, Assertive and 
Figurative or Gestures of Analogy. 

The Designative Gesture designates or points out. It may 
employ the index finger; as, "'Thou art the man." Or, it may 
employ the open hand. The open hand is general in its ap- 
plication; the index finger, specific. 

The Descriptive Gesture is used to describe objects and rep- 
resent space. 

The Assertive Gesture is used for the purpose of emphasis. 



46 scorer's successful recitations. 

Figurative Gestures or Gestures of Analogy. Whether a 
thought is expressed literally or figuratively, the gesture is the 
same; as, 

(a.) This is the letter 1 brought you. 

(6.) This is the question for discussion. 

In executing the gesture on these lines, bring the supine 
hand up to the horizontal on the front line. 

The Subjective Gestures bring the hands towards the body 
and are significant. They signify inward feeling or emotion; 
such as placing the hand on the head in distress or pain, etc. 

THE QUALITIES OF GESTUEE 

Are: Boldness or Freedom, Energy or Power, Propriety — the 
proper gesture, Precision — at the proper time, Variety — adapt- 
ing suitable gestures to each sentiment to avoid repeating one 
gesture too often, Simplicity , Magnificence — the vast amount of 
space through which the hand and arm are made to move, 
Grace — the result of the other qualities. 

THE POINTS IN THE ANALYSIS OF GESTURE 

Are: the Preparation, the Execution and the Return Movement. 

The Preparation should be made on the word or words 
preceding the emphatic word. If the first word of a sentence 
is emphatic the preparation must be made before uttering the 
word. The Ictus is the emphatic stroke of the wrist at the 
finish of the execution. 

The Return Movement is simply bringing the hand from the 
Ictus to the side of the body after the execution of a gesture or 
a series of gestures. 

SPECIAL GESTURES. 

Right Hand Uplifted. — Adjuration, Oath and Solemn Dec- 
laration; as, "I swear it shall not be." Or, in arresting atten- 
tion; as, "Hark ! the cry is Astur." 

Both Hands Uplifted. — Awe, wonder, surprise; as, "How 
wonderful are thy works, O Lord ! " 

In Earnest and Sacred Aspirations; as, "Angels and 
Ministers of Grace defend us ! " 

In Benediction; as, "May Heaven's richest blessing rest 
upon you! " 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 47 

In arousing calls; as, "To arms! to arms! Sir Consul ! " 
THE INDEX FINGER. 

1. Indication, Specific Reference, Emphatic Designa- 
tion; as, "That man ! M 

2. Cautioning and Threatening; as, "Mark my tale with 
care." 

. 3. Special Emphasis; as, "I will never yield." 
4. Reproach, Scorn, Contempt; as, "Vipers! that creep 
where man disdains to climb." 

HANDS CLINCHED. 

Extreme Emphasis, Anger and Defiance. 

Hands Applied — Adoration. 

"Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth." 

Hands Clasped. — Supplication, Earnest Entreaty, Distress. 

"Oh Lord, hear my cry." 

Hands Folded — Humility. 

"I acknowledge my sins." 

PRINCIPLE OF OPPOSITION. 

The arms and body move in opposition, the greater the 
energy of the gesture, the greater the opposition. In objec- 
tive gestures thd^ move from each other; in subjective ges- 
tures, towards each other. 

EXERCISES FOR PRACTICE. 

Each series consists of thirty-five movements, — twelve 
with the right hand, twelve with the left hand and eleven 
double movements. 

Congenial Movements.— Front: 1. Descending; 2. Hori- 
zontal; 3. Ascending. Front Oblique: 4. Descending; 5. 
Horizontal; 6. Ascending. Lateral: 7. Descending; 8. Hori- 
zontal; 9. Ascending. Rear Oblique: 10. Descending, 11. 
Horizontal, 12. Ascending. 

Begin with the right hand from a right front position. 
In the preparation of each movement, the hand must drop to 
the waist and then brought be up at the opposite breast to the 
shoulder. In passing from the ninth movement to the tenth y 
with either hand, the advance foot should be brought back to 



48 



the rear oblique line. In the double movements the one on 
the horizontal plane, rear oblique line, is omitted. In passing 
to the eleventh or last of the double movements, the right foot 
should be brought back to the moderate aversive position. 

Repeat the above series, clinching the hand on the Ictus. 

Emphatic Movements. — 1. Hand supine from side of bead. 
2. Index finger, hand vertical, from side of head. 3. 
Clinched hand from side of head. 4. Supine hand from 
opposite shoulder. 5. Prone hand from opposite shoulder. 
6. Index finger, hand prone, from opposite shoulder. 7. 
Supine hand from the side of the body or base position of the 
hands. 

THE FEATURES. 

Joy, Happiness, Benevolence, Good Humor — Countenance 
open and smiling. 

Anger Defiance, Hatred — The eyes flash, the brows con- 
tract, the lips compress. 

Scorn, Pride — Lips and nose elevated. 

Surprise, Fear, Secresy — The brows elevated, the eyes 
opened, the lips parted. 

Grief— -The eyes half closed, the face dejected. 

Shame — Eyes cast down. 

Supplication — Eyes raised. 




PART SECOND. 

SCORER'S 

Successful Recitations. 



SONG OF THE CAMP. 

AN INCIDENT OP THE CRIMEAN WAR. 

4 'Give us a Song!" the soldiers cried, 

The outer trenches guarding, 
When the heated guns of the camps allied 

Grew weary of bombarding. 

The dark Redan, in silent scoff, 
Lay, grim and threatening, under ; 

And the tawny mound of the Malakoff 
No longer belched its thunder. 

There was a pause. A guardsman said : 
"We storm the forts to-morrow; 

Sing while we may, another day 
Will bring enough of sorrow." 

They lay along the battery's side, 

Below the smoking cannon ; 
Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde, 

And from the banks of Shannon. 

They sang of love, and not of fame ; 

Forgot was Britain's glory : 
Each heart recalled a different name, 

But all sang : 

"Maxwelton braes are bonnie, 

Where early fa's the dew ; 

And it's there that Annie Laurie 



scorer's successful recitations, 

Gie'd nie her promise true, 
Gie'd me her promise true, 
Which ne'er forgot shall be, 
And for bonnie Annie Laurie 
I'll lay me doune and dee." 

Voice after voice caught up : 

4 'Her brow is like the snaw drift, 
Her throat is like the swan ; 
Her face it is the fairest 
That e'er the sun shone on, 
That e'er the sun shone on; 
And dark blue is her e'e, 
And for bonnie Annie Laurie 
I'd lay me doune and dee." 

Until its tender passion 
Kose like an anthem, rich and strong, — 
Their battle-eve confession. 

Dear girl, her name he dared not speak, 

But, as the song grew louder, 
Something upon the soldier's cheek, 

Washed off the stains of powder. 

Beyond the darkening ocean burned 

The bloody sunset's embers, 
While the Crimean valleys learned 

How English love remembers. 

And once again a fire of hell 

Kained on the Kussian quarters, 
With scream of shot, and burst of shell, 

And bellowing of the mortars ! 

And Irish Nora's eyes are dim 

For a singer, dumb and gory ; 
And English Mary mourns for him 

Who sang : 

" She's all the world to me, 

And for bonnie Annie Laurie, 

I'll lay me doune and dee." 

BAYARD TAYLOR. 



THE TOLISH BOY. 



THE POLISH BOY. 



Whence came those shrieks, so wild and shrill, 

That like an arrow cleave the air, 
Causing the blood to creep and thrill 

With such sharp cadence of despair? 
Once more they come ! as if a heart 

Were cleft in twain by one quick blow, 
And every string had voice apart 

To utter its peculiar woe ! 

Whence came they ? From yon temple, where 

An altar raised for private prayer, 
Now forms the warrior's marble bed, 

Who Warsaw's gallant armies led. 
The dim funereal tapers throw 

A holy lustre o'er his brow, 
And burnish with their rays of light 

The mass of curls that gather bright 
Above the haughty brow and eye 

Of a young boy that 's kneeling by. 

What hand is that whose icy press 

Clings to the dead with death's own grasp, 
But meets no answering caress — 

No thrilling fingers seek its clasp? 
It is the hand of her whose cry 

Eang wildly late upon the air, 
When the dead warrior met her eye, 

Outstretched upon the altar there. 

Now with white lips and broken moan 
She sinks beside the altar stone; 
But hark ! the heavy tramp of feet, 
Is heard along the gloomy street, 
Nearer and nearer yet they come, 
With clanking arms and noiseless drum. 
Now whispered curses, low and deep 
Around the holy temple creep. 
The gate is burst. A ruffian band 
Rush in and savagely demand, 
With brutal voice and oath profane, 
The startled boy for exile's chain. 



10 scorer's successful recitations. 

The mother sprang with gesture wild, 
And to her bosom snatched the child ; 
Then with pale cheek and flashing eye, 
Shouted with fearful energy, — 
" Back, ruffians, back ! nor dare to tread 
Too near the body of my dead ! 
!Nor touch the living boy — I stand 
Between him and your lawless band ! 

* * # # * 

* * * * * 

Take me, and bind these arms, these hands, 

"With Russia's heaviest iron bands, 

And drag me to Siberia's wild 

To perish, if 'twill save my child ! " 

" Peace, woman, peace ! " the leader cried, 
Tearing the pale boy from her side ; 
And in his ruffian grasp he bore 
His victim to temple door. 

"One moment ! one ; 

Can land or gold redeem my son ? 

If so, I bend my Polish knee, 

And, Russia, ask a boon of thee. 

Take palaces, take lands, take all, 

But leave him free from Russian thrall. 

Take these," and her white arms and hands 

She stripped of rings and diamond bands, 

And tore from braids of long black hair 

The gems that gleamed like star-light there; 

Unclasped the brilliant coronal 

And carcanet of orient pearl; 

Her cross of blazing rubies last 

Down to the Russian's feet she cast. 

He stooped to seize the glittering store; 
Upspringing from the marble floor, 
The mother with a cry of joy, 
Snatched to her leaping heart the boy ! 

But no — the Russian's iron grasp 
Again undid the mother's clasp. 



THE POLISH BOY. 11 

Forward she fell, with one long cry, 
Of more than mortal agony. 
But the brave child is roused at length, 
And breaking from the Kussian's hold, 
He stands, a giant in the strength 
Of his young spirit, fierce and bold. 

Proudly he towers, his flashing eye, 

So blue and fiercely bright, 

Seems lighted from the eternal sky, 

So brilliant is its light. 

His curling lips and crimson cheeks 

Foretell the thought before he speaks. 

With a full voice of proud command 

He turns upon the wondering band. 

" Ye hold me not ! no, no, nor can ; 
This hour has made the boy a man. 
I knelt beside my slaughtered sire, 
Nor felt one throb of vengeful ire ; 
I wept upon his marble brow — 
Yes, wept — I was a child; but now 
My noble mother on her kuee, 
Has done the work of years for me." 

He drew aside his broidered vest, 

And there, like slumbering serpent's crest, 

The jeweled haft of poinard bright, 

Glittered a moment on the sight. 

"Ha! start ye back! Fool! coward! knave! 

Think ye my noble father's glave, 

Would drink the life blood of a slave ? 

The pearls that on the handle flame, 

Would blush to rubies in their shame ! 

The blade would quiver in thy breast, 

Ashamed of such ignoble rest ! 

No; thus I rend thy tyrant's chain. 

And fling him back a boy's disdain ! " 

A moment, and the funereal light 
Flashed on the jeweled weapon bright; 
Another, and his young heart's blood 
Leaped to the floor a crimson flood. 



12 scorer's successful recitations. 

Quick to his mother's side he sprang, 
And on the air his clear voice rang — 
" Up, mother, up ! I'm free ! I'm free ! 
The choice was death or slavery ; 
Speak, mother speak— lift up thy head. 
What, silent still ? Then thou art dead ! 
Great God, I thank thee ! Mother, I 
Eejoice with thee, and thus to die." 

ANN S. STEPHENS, 



THE ENCOUNTER OF MILES STANDISH WITH 
THE INDIANS. 

Just in the gray of the dawn, as the mists uprose from 

the meadows, 
There was a stir and a sound in the slumbering village of 

Plymouth ; 
Clanging and clicking of arms, and the order imperative, 

"Forward!" 
Given in tone suppressed, a tramp of feet, and then silence. 
Figures ten, in the mist, marched slowy out of the village. 
Utandish the stalwart it was, with eight of his valorous 

army, 
Led by their Indian guide, by Hobomok, friend of the 

white men, 
Northward marching to quell the sudden revolt of the 

savage. 
After a three days' march he came to an Indian encamp- 
ment 
Pitched on the edge of a meadow, between the sea and 

the forest; 
Women at work by the tents, and the warriors, horrid with 

war-paint, 
Seated about a fire, and smoking and talking together ; 
Who, when they saw from afar the sudden approach of the 

white men, 
law the flash of the sun on breastplate and sabre and 

musket, 



ENCOUNTER OF MILES STANDISH WITH THE INDIANS. 13 

Straightway leaped to their feet, and two, from among them 

advancing, 
Came to parley with Standish, and offer him furs as a 

present ; 
Friendship was in their looks, but in their hearts there was 

hatred. 
Braves of the tribe were these, and brothers gigantic in 

stature, 
Huge as Goliath of Gath, or the terrible Og, king of Bashan ; 
One was Pecksuot named, and the other was called Watta- 

wamat. 
Round their necks were suspended their knives in scabbards 

of wampum, 
Two-edged, trenchant knives, with points as sharp as a 

needle. 
Other arms had they none, for they were cunning and crafty. 
'* Welcome, English ! " they said, — these words they had 

learned from the traders 
Touching at times on the coast, to barter and chaffer for 

peltries. 
Then in their native tongue they began to parley with 

Standish, 
Through his guide and interpreter, Hobomok, friend of the 

white man, 
Begging for blankets and knives, but mostly for muskets 

and powder, 
Kept by the white man, they said, concealed, with the 

plague, in his cellars, 
Eeady to be let loose, and destroy his brother the red man ! 
But when Standish refused, and said he would giVe them 

the Bible, 
Suddenly changing their tone, they began to boast and to 

bluster. 
Then Wattawamat advanced with a stride in front of the 

other, 
And, with a lofty demeanor, thus vauntingly spake to the 

Captain : 
"Now Wattawamat can see, by the fiery eyes of the captain, 
Angry is he in his heart ; but the heart of the brave Watta- 
wamat 
Is not afraid of the sight. He was not born of a woman, 



14 scorer's successful recitations. 

But on a mountain, at night, from an oak-tree riven by- 
lightning, 
Forth he sprang at a bound with all his weapons about him 
Shouting, ' Who is there here to fight with the brave Wat- 

tawamat?' " 
Then he unsheathed his knife, and, whetting the blade 

on his left hand, 
Held it aloft and displayed a woman's face on the handle, 
Saying, with bitter expression and look of sinister meaning: 
" I have another at home, with the face of a man on the 

handle; 
By and by they shall marry ; and there will be plenty of 
children ! " 

Then stood Pecksuot forth, self-vaunting, insulting 

Miles Standish: 
While with his fingers he patted the knife that hung at 

his bosom, 
Drawing it half from its sheath, and plunging it back, as 

he muttered, 
• c By and by it shall see; it shall eat; ah, ha! but shall 

speak not ! 
This is the mighty Captain the white men have sent to 

destroy us ! 
He is a little man ; let him go and work with the women !" 

Meanwhile Standish had noted the faces and figures of 
Indians 

Peeping and creeping about from bush to tree in the forest, 

Feigning to look for game, with arrows set on their bow- 
strings, 

Drawing about him still closer and closer the net of their 
ambush. 

But undaunted he stood, and dissembled and treated them 
smoothly; 

So the old chronicles say, that were writ in the days of 
the fathers. 

But when he heard their defiance, the boast, the taunt, 
and the insult, 

All the hot blood of his race, of Sir Hugh and of Thurs- 
ton de Standish, 



DARIUS GREEN AND HIS FLYING-MACHINE 15 

Boiled and beat in his heart, and swelled in the veins of 

his temples. 
Headlong he leaped on the boaster, and, snatching his 

knife from its scabbard, 
Plunged it into his heart, and, reeling backward, the savage 
Fell with his face to the sky, and a fiendlike fierceness 

upon it. 
Straight there arose from the forest the awful sound of 

the war-whoop, 
And like -a flurry of snow on the whistling wind of 

December, 
Swift and sudden and keen came a flight of feathery 

arrows. 
Then came a cloud of smoke, and out of the cloud came 

the lightning, 
Out of the lightning thunder; and death unseen ran 

before it. 
Frightened the savages fled for shelter in swamp and in 

thicket, 
Hotly pursued and beset; but their sachem, the brave 

Wat ta warn at, 
Fled not ; he w as dead. Unswerving and swift had a bullet 
Passed through his brain, and he fell with both hands 

clutching the greensward, 
Seeming in death to hold back from his foe the land of his 

fathers. 
Thus the first battle was fought and won by the stalwart 

Miles Standish. 

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 



DAEIUS GKEEN AND HIS FLYING-MACHINE, 

If ever there lived a Yankee lad, 
Wise or otherwise, good or bad, 
Who, seeing the birds fly, did n't jump 
With flapping arms from stake or stump, 

Or, spreading the tail 

Of his coat for a sail, 
Take a soaring leap from post or rail, 



16 scorer's successful recitations. 

And wonder why 

He could n't fly, 
And flap and flutter and wish and try, — 
If ever you knew a country dunce 
Who did n't try that as often as once, 
All I can say is, that 's a sign 
He never would do for a hero of mine. 

An aspiring genius was D. Green : 
The son of a farmer, — age fourteen ; 
His body was long and lank and lean, — 
Just right for flying, as will be seen ; 
He had two eyes as bright as a bean, 
And a freckled nose that grew between, 
A little awry, — for I must mention 
That he had riveted his attention 
Upon his wonderful invention, 

Till his nose seemed bent 

To catch the scent, 
Around some corner, of new-baked pies, 
And his wrinkled cheeks and his squinting eyes 
Grew puckered into a queer grimace, 
That made him look very droll in the face, 

And also very wise. 

And wise he must have been, to do more 
Than ever a genius did before, 
Excepting Dasclalus of yore 
And his son Icarus, who wore 

Upon their backs 

Those wings of wax 
He had read of in the old almanacs. 
Darius was clearly of the opinion, 
That the air is also man's dominion, 
And that, with paddle or fin or pinion, 

We soon or late 

Shall navigate 
The azure as now we sail the sea. 
The thing looks simple enough to me; 

And if you doubt it, 
Hear how Darius reasoned about it. 



DARIUS GREEN AND HIS FLYING-MACHINE. If 

''The birds can fly, 

An' why can't I? 

Must we give in, 

' T the bluebird an' phoebe 

Are smarter 'n we be ? 
Jest fol4 our hands an' see the swaller 
An' blackbird an' catbird beat us holler? 
Doos the leetle chatterin', sassy wren, 
No bigger 'n my thumb, know more than men ? 

Jest show me that ! • 

Er prove 't the bat 
Hez got more brains than's in my hat, 
An' I'll back down, an' not till then ! " 

"!Ner I can't see 

What's th' use o' wings to a bumble-bee, 

Fur to git a livin' with, mor'n to me ; — 

Ain't my business 

Importanter 'n his'n is ? 

That Icarus 

Was a silly cuss, — 
Him an' his daddy Daedalus. 
They might 'a' knowed wings made o' wax 
Woudn't stand sun-heat an' hard whacks. 

I'll make mine o' luther 

Ur suthin or other. 
"But I ain't goin' to show my hand 
To nummies that never can understand 
The fust idee that's big an' grand. 
They'd 'a' laft an* made fun 
O' Creation itself, afore 't was done!" 

So he kept his secret from all the rest, 

Safely buttoned within his vest ; 

And in the loft above the shed 

Himself he locks, with thimble and thread 

And wax and hammer and buckles and screws, 

And all such things as geniuses use ; — 

Two bats for patterns, curious fellows ! 

A charcoal-pot and a pair of bellows ; 

An old hoop-skirt or two, as well as 



18 scorer's successful recitations. 

Some wire, and several old umbrellas ; 

A carriage-cover for tail and wings ; 

A piece of a harness ; and straps and strings ; 

And a big strong box, 

In which he locks 
These and a hundred other things. 

His grinning brothers, Eeuben and Burke 

And Nathan and Jotham and Solomon, lurk 

Around t^he corner to see him work. 

But vainly they mounted each other's backs, 

And poked through knot-holes and pried through cracks ; 

With wood from the pile and straw from the stacks 

He plugged the knot-holes and calked the cracks ; 

And a bucket of water, which one would think 

He had brought up into the loft to drink 

When he chanced to be dry, 

Stood always nigh, 

For Darius was sly ! 
And whenever at work he happened to spy 
At a chink or crevice a blinking eye, 
He let a dipper of water fly. 
" Take that ! an' ef ever ye git a peep, 
Guess ye '11 ketch a weasle asleep ! " 

And he sings as he locks 

His big strong box : — 

SONG. 

" The weasel's head is small an' trim, 

An' he is little an' long an' slim, 

An' quick of motion an' nimble of limb, 

An' ef yeou '11 be 

Advised by me, 
Keep wide awake when ye 're ketchin' him ! " 

So day after day 
He stitched and tinkered and hammered away, 

Till at last 't was done, — 
The greatest invention under the sun ! 
"An' now," says Darius, "hooray fer some fun !" 



DARIUS GREEN AND HIS FLYING-MACHINE. 19 

'T was the Fourth of July, 

And the weather was dry, 
And not a cloud was on all the sky, 
Save a few light fleeces, which here and there, 

Half mist, half air, 
Like foam on the ocean went floating by, — 
Just as lovely a morning as ever was seen 
For a nice little trip in a flying-machine. 

Thought cunning Darius : " Now I sha'n't go 
Along 'ith the fellers to see the show. 
I '11 say I 've got sich a terrible cough ! 
An' then when the folks 'ave all gone off, 

I '11 hev full swing 

Fer to try the thing, 
An' practyse a leetle on the wing." 

* 'Ain't goin' to see the celebration? " 
Says Brother Nate. " No; botheration ! 
I 've got sich a cold — a toothache— I — 
My gracious ! — feel's though I should fly ! " 

Said Jotham, "Sho! 

Guess ye better go." 

But Darius said, " No ! 
Should n't wonder 'f yeou might see me, though, 
'Long 'bout noon, ef I git red 
O' this jumpin', thumpin' pain 'n my head." 
For all the time to himself he said : — 

" I tell ye what! 
I '11 fly a few times around the lot, 
To see how 't seems, then soon 's I 've got 
The hang o' the thing, ez likely 's not, 

I '11 astonish the nation, 

An' all creation, 
By flyin' over the celebration ! 
Over their heads I '11 sail like an eagle; 
I '11 balance myself on my wings like a sea-gull; 
I '11 dance on the chimbleys; I '1 stan' on the steeple; 
I '11 flop up to the winders au' scare the people ! 



20 scorer's successful recitations. 

I '11 light on the libbe'ty-pole an' crow; 
An' I '11 say to the gawpin' fools below, 

1 What world 's this 'ere 

That I 've come near ? ' 
Fer I '11 make 'em b'lieve I 'm a chap fm the moon ; 
An' I '11 try a race 'ith their ol' bulloon ! " 

He crept from his bed ; 
And seeing the others were gone, he said, 
" I'm a gittin' over the cold 'n my head." 

And away he sped, 
To open the wonderful box in the shed. 

His brothers had walked but a little way, 

When Jotham to Nathan chanced to say, 

u What on airth is he up to, hey ? " 

"Don'o, — the' 's suthin' ur other to pay, 

Er he would n't 'a' stayed to hum to day." 

Says Burke, " His toothache's all 'n his eye ! 

He never'd miss a Fo'th-o-July, 

Ef hed n't got some machine to try." 

Then Sol, the little one, spoke : " By darn ! 

Le' 's hurry back an' hide 'n the barn, 

An' pay him fer tellin' us that yarn ! " 

" Agreed ! " Through the orchard they creep back, 

Along by the fences, behind the stack, 

And one by one, through a hole in the wall, 

In under the dusty barn they crawl, 

Dressed in their Sunday garments all ; 

And a very astonishing sight was that, 

When each in his cobwebbed coat and hat 

Came up through the floor like an ancient rat. 

And there they hid ; 

And Keuben slid 
The fastenings back, and the door undid, 

" Keep dark! 
While I squint an' see what the' is to see." 

As knights of old put on their mail, — 

From head to foot 

An iron suit, 
Iron jacket and Iron boot, 



DARIUS GREEN AND HIS FLYING-MACHINE. 21 

Iron breeches, and on the head 
No hat, hut an iron pot instead. 

And under the chin the hail, 
(I believe they call the thing a helm,) 
And the lid they carried they called a shield ; 
And, thus accoutred, they took the field, 
Sallying forth to overwhelm 
The dragons and pagans that plagued the realm, — 

So this modern knight, 

Prepared for flight, 
Put on his wings and strapped them tight; 
Jointed and jaunty, strong and light; 
Buckled them fast to shoulder and hip, — 
Ten feet they measured from tip to tip ! 
And a helm had he, hut that he wore, 
Not on his head, like those of yore, 
But more like the helm of a ship. 

"Hush!" 

" He's up in the shed ! 
He's opened the winder, — I see his head ! 

He stretches it out, 

An' pokes it about, 
Lookin' to see 'f the coast is clear, 

An' nobody near; — 
Guess he don'o' who's hid in here ! 
He 's riggin' a spring-board over the sill ! 
Stop lafiin', Solomon ! Burke, keep still ! 
He 's a climbin' out now — Of all the things ! 
What's he got on ? I van, it 's wings ! 
An ' that t'other thing ? I vum, it 's a tail ! 
An' there he sets like a hawk on a rail !" 
Away he goes! Jimminy ! what a jump! 

As a demon is hurled by an angel's spear, 
Heels over head, to his proper sphere, — 
Heels over head, and head over heels, 
Dizzily down the abyss he wheels, — 
So fell Darius. Upon his crown, 
In the midst of the barn-yard, he came down, 
In a wonderful whirl of tangled strings, 
Broken braces and broken springs, 



22 scorer's successful recitations. 

Broken tail and broken wings, 
Shooting-stars and various things, — 
Barn-yard litter of straw and chaff, 
And much that was n't so sweet by half. 
Away with a bellow fled the calf, 
And what was that? Did the gosling laugh? 

'T is a merry roar 

From the old barn-door, 
And he hears the voice of Jotham crying, 
" Say, D'rius ! how do yeou like flyin'? " 

Slowly, ruefully, where he lay, 

Darius just turned and looked that way, 

As he staunched his sorrowful nose with his cuff, 

" Wal, I like flyin' well enough, 

But the' ain't such a thunderin' sight 

O' fun in 't when ye come to light." 

J. T. TROWBRIDGE. 



THE LOW-BACKED CAR. 

( IRISH DIALECT. ) 

When first I saw sweet Peggy, 

'T was on a market day : 
A low-backed car she drove, and sat 

Upon a truss of hay ; 
But when that hay was blooming grass, 

And decked with flowers of spring, 
No flower was there that could compare 

With the blooming girl I sing. 
As she sat in the low-backed car, 
The man with the turnpike bar 
Never asked for the toll, 
But just rubbed his owld poll, 
And looked after the low-backed car. 

In battle's wild commotion, 
The proud and mighty Mars 

With hostile scythes demands his tithes 
Of death in warlike cars ; 



THE LOW-BACKED CAR, 23 

While Peggy, peaceful goddess, 

Has darts in her bright eye, 
That knocked men down in the market town 

As right and left they fly ; 
While she sits in her low-backed car, 
Than battle more dangerous far, — 
For the doctor's art 
Cannot cure the heart, 
That is hit from that low-backed car. 



Sweet Peggy round her car, sir, 

Has strings of ducks and geese, 
But the scores of hearts she slaughters 

By far outnumber these; 
While she among her poultry sits, 

Just like a turtle-dove, 
Well worth the cage, I do engage, 

Of the blooming god of Love ! 
While she sits in her low-backed car, 
The lovers come near and far, 
And envy the chicken 
That Peggy is pickin', 
As she sits in her low-backed car. 



O, I'd rather own that car, sir, 

With Peggy by my side, 
Than a coach and four, and gold galore, 

And a lady for my bride ; 
For the lady would sit forninst me, 

On a cushion made with taste, 
While Peggy would sit beside me, 

With my arm around her waist, 
While we drove in the low-backed car, 
To be married by Father Mahar ; 
O, my heart would beat high 
At her glance and her sigh, — 
Though it beat in a low-backed car ! 

SAMUEL LOVER. 



24 scorer's successful recitations. 

CONNOR. 

44 To the memory of Patrick Connor; this simple stone was erected 
by his fellow- workmen." 

Those words you may read any day upon a white slab 
in a cemetery not many miles from New York ; but you 
might read them an hundred times without guessing at the 
little tragedy they indicate, without knowing the humble 
romance which ended with the placing of that stone above 
the dust of one poor humble man. 

In his shabby frieze jacket and mud-laden brogans, he 
was scarcely an attractive object as he walked into Mr. 
Bawne's great tin and hardware shop one day and presented 
himself at the counter with an, 

" Ive been tould ye advertized for hands, yer honor." 

64 Fully supplied, my man." 

"I'd work faithfully, sir, and take low wages, till I could 
do better, and I'd learn — I would that." 

It was an Irish brogue. 

The tone attracted him. He addressed the man, who 
was only one of fifty who had answered his advertisement 
for four workmen that morning. 

4 * What makes you expect to learn faster than other folks 
— are you any smarter ! " 

"Til not say that; but I'd be wishing to; and that 
would make it aisier." 

u Are you used to the work?" 

" Ive done a bit of it." 

; 'Much?" 

" No, yer honor, I'll tell ye no lie, Tim O'Toole had n't 
the like of this place ; but I know a bit about tins." 

u You are too old for an apprentice, and you'd be in the 
way I calculate," said Mr. Bawne, looking at the brawny 
arms and bright eyes that promised strength and intelli- 
gence. " Besides I know your country-men — lazy good-for- 
nothing fellows who never do their best. No, I've been 
taken in by Irish hands before, and I won't have another. " 

ct »j< ne yi r gi n w w\ have to be after bringing them over to 
me in her two arms, thin, for I've tramped all the day for 
the last fortnight, and niver a job can I get, and that's the 
last penny I have, yer honor, audit's but a half one." 



CONNOR. 25 

As he spoke he spread his palm open with an English 
half-penny in it. 

"Bring whom over?" asked Mr. Bawne. arrested by the 
odd speech. 

"Jist Nora and Jamesy." 

" Who are they?" 

"The wan's me wife, the other me child. O masther, 
just thry me. How'll I bring em over to me, if no one will 
give me a job? I want to be aiming, and the whole big 
city seems against it, and me with arms like them." 

He bared his arms to the shoulder as he spoke, and Mr. 
Bawne looked at them, and then at his face. 

" I'll hire you for a week, and now, as it's noon, go 
down to the kitchen and tell the girl to get you some dinner 
— a hungry man can't work." 

With an Irish blessing, the new hand obeyed, while Mr. 
Bawne, untying his apron, went up stairs to his own meal. 
Suspicious as he was of the new hand's integrity and ability, 
he was agreeably disappointed. Connor worked hard, and 
actually learned fast. At the end of a week he was engaged 
permanently, and soon was the best workman in the shop. 

He was a great talker, but not fond of drink or wasting 
money. As his wages grew, he hoarded every penny, and 
wore the same shabby clothes in which he made his first 
appearance. 

"Beer costs money," he said one day, "and ivery cint 
I spind puts off the bringing Nora and Jamesy over ; and 
as for clothes, them I have must do me. Better no coat 
to my back than no wife and boy by my fire-side ; and 
anyhow, it's slow work saving." 

It was slow work, but he kept at it all the same. 
Other men, thoughtless and full of fun, tried to make him 
drink; made a jest of his saving habits, coaxed him to ac- 
company them to places of amusement, or to share in their 
Sunday frolics. 

All in va^n. Connor liked fun, liked companionship; 
but he would not delay that long-looked-for bringing of 
Nora over, and was not "mane enough" to accept favor 
of others. He kept his way, a martyr to his one great 
wish, living on little, working at night on any extra job 
by which he could earn a few shillings, running errands 



26 scorer's successful recitations. 

in his noon-tide hours of rest, and talking to any one who 
would listen to him of his one great hope, and of Nora 
and of little Jamesy. 

At first the men who prided themselves on being all 
Americans, and on turning out the best work in the city, 
made a sort of butt of Connor, whose "wild Irish" ways 
and verdancy were indeed often laughable. But he won 
their hearts at last, and when one day mounting a work- 
bench, he shook his little bundle, wrapped in a red ker- 
chief, before their eyes, and shouted, " Look, boys; I've 
got the whole at last! I'm going to bring Nora and 
Jamesy over at last ! Hurra, Whorooo ! !" All felt sym- 
pathy in his joy, and each grasped his great hand in cor- 
dial congratulations, and one proposed to treat all round, 
and drink a good voyage to Nora. 

They parted in a merry mood, most of the men going 
to comfortable homes. But poor Connor's resting-place 
was a poor lodging-house, where he shared a crazy garret 
with four other men, and in the joy of his heart the poor 
fellow exhibited his handkerchief, before he put it under 
his pillow and fell asleep. 

When he awakened in the morning he found his 
treasure gone; some villain, more contemptible than most 
bad men, had robbed him. 

At first Connor could not even believe it lost. He 
searched every corner of the room, shook his quilt and 
blankets, and begged those about him "to quit joking, 
and give it back." 

But at last he realized the truth — 

"Is any man that bad that it's thaved from me?" 
"Boys, is any man that bad?" Some one answered: 
"No doubt of it, Connor; it's sthole." 

Then Connor put his head down on his hands and 
lifted up his voice and wept. It was one of those sights 
which men never forget. It seemed' more than he could 
bear, to have Nora and his child ''put," as *he expressed 
it, "months away from him again." 

But when he went to work that day it seemed to all 
who saw him that he had picked up a new determination. 
His hands were never idle. His face seemed to say, "I'll 
have Nora with me yet." 



CONNOR. 27 

At noon he scratched out a letter, blotted and very 
strangely scrawled, telling Nora what had happened; 
and those who observed him noticed that he had no meat 
with his dinner. Indeed frpm that moment he lived on 
bread, potatoes, and cold water, and worked as few men 
ever worked before. — It grew to be the talk of the shop, 
and, now that sympathy was excited, every one wanted to 
help Connor. Jobs were thrown in his way, kind words 
and friendly wishes helped him mightily; but no power 
could make him share the food or drink of any other 
workman. It seemed a sort of charity to him. 

Still he was helped along. A present from Mr. Bawne 
at pay day, set Nora, as he said, "a week nearer,' ' and 
this, that and the other added to the little hoard. It 
grew faster than the first, and Connor's burden was not 
so heavy. At last before he hoped it, he was once more 
able to say, " I'm going to bring them over," and to show 
his handkerchief, in which, as before, he tied up his earn- 
ings ; this time, however, only to his friends. Cautious 
among strangers, he hid the treasure, and kept his vest 
buttoned over it night and day until the tickets were 
bought and sent. Then every man, woman and child, 
capable of hearing or understanding knew that Nora and 
her baby were coming. 

The days flew by and brought at last a letter from his 
wife. 

She would start as he desired, and she was well and 
so was the boy, and "might the Lord bring them safely to 
each other's arms and bless them who had been so kind to 
him." That was the substance of the epistle which Con- 
nor proudly assured his fellow- workmen Nora wrote her- 
self. She had lived at service as a girl, with a certain 
good old lady, who had given her the items of an educa- 
tion, which Connor told upon his fingers. "The radin', 
that's one, and the writen, — the writen, that's three, and 
moreover, she knows all that a woman can." Then he 
looked up with tears in his eyes, and asked, — "Do you 
wondher the time seems long between me an' her, boys? " 

So it was. Nora at the dawn of day — Nora at noon — 
Nora at night — until the news came that the Stormy Pet- 



28 scorer's successful recitations. 

rel had come to port, and Connor, breathless and pale with 
excitement, flung his cap in the air and shouted. 

It happened on a holiday afternoon, and half-a-dozen 
men were ready to go with Gonnor to the steamer and 
give his wife a greeting. Her little home was ready ; Mr. 
Bawne's own servant had put it in order, and Connor 
took one peep at it before he started. 

"Ah ! look at that will ye ? She hadn't the like of that 
in the old counthry, but she'll know how to keep them 
tidy, she will that." 

Then he led the way towards the dock where the 
steamer lay, and at a pace that made it hard for the rest 
to follow him. The spot was reached at last; a crowd of 
vehicles blockaded the street ; a troop of emigrants came 
thronging up; fine cabin passengers were stepping into 
cabs, and drivers, porters, and all manner of employees 
were yelling and shouting in the usual manner. Nora 
would wait on board for her husband, he knew that. 

The little group made their way into the vessel at 
last, and there, amid those who sat watching for coming 
friends, Connor searched for the two so dear to him ; pa- 
tiently at first, eagerly but patiently, but by-and-by 
growing anxious and excited. 

"She would never go alone, she'd be lost entirely; I 
bade her wait, but I don't see her, boys; I think she's 
not in it." 

" Why don't you see the captain?" asked one, and 
Connor jumped at the suggestion. In a few minutes he 
stood before a portly, rubicund man, who nodded to him 
kindly, 

"I am looking for my wife, yer honor, and I can't 
find her." 

" Perhaps she's gone ashore, my man." 

"I bade her wait." 

" Women don't always do as they are bid, you know." 

" Nora would, but maybe she was left behind. Maybe 
she didn't come. I somehow think she didn't." 

At the name of Nora the Captain started. In a 
moment he asked : 

" What is your name? " 

" Pat Connor." 



CONNOR. 29 

"And your wife's name was Nora? " 

" That's her name, and the boy with her is Jamesy, 
yer honor," said Connor. 

The captain looked at Connor's friends, they looked 
at the captain. Then he said : " Sit down, my man ; I've 
got something to tell you." 

"She's left behind." 

" She sailed with us." 

" Where is she?" 

" My man, we all have our trials; God sends them. 
Yes — Nora started with us." 

Connor said nothing. He was looking at the captain 
now, white to his lips. 

"It's been a sickly season, we have had illness on 
board — the cholera. You know that." 

" I didn't. I can't read ; they kept it from me." 

" You know how long we lay at Quarantine? " 

" The ship I came in did that. Did ye say Nora went 
ashore ? Ought I be looking for her, captain ? " 

" Many died, many children. When we were half 
way here your boy was taken sick." 

"Jamesy," gasped Connor. 

" His mother watched him night and day, and we did 
all we could, but at last he died ; only one of many. 
There were five buried that day. But it almost broke 
my heart to see the mother looking out upon the water. 
"It's his father I think of," said she, "he's longing to 
see poor Jamesy." 

Connor groaned. 

"Keep up if you can, my man, (I wish any one else 
had it to tell rather than I). That night Nora was taken ill 
also; very suddenly, she grew worse fast. In the morn- 
ing she called me to her and said, ' Tell Connor I died 
thinking of him, tell him to meet me.' And my man, 
God help you, she never said anything more — in an hour 
she was gone." 

Connor had risen. He stood looking at the captain 
with his eyes dry as two stones. Then turned to his 
friends and exclaimed : — 

" Boys, I've got my death," then dropped to the deck 
like a log. 



30 scorer's successful recitations. 

They raised him and bore him away. In an hour he 
was at home on the little bed which had been made ready 
for Nora, weary with her long voyage. There at last, he 
opened his eyes. Old Mr. Bawne bent over him; he had 
been summoned by the news, and the room was full of 
Connor's fellow- workmen. 

" Better, Connor ? " asked the old man. 

"A dale," said Connor. " It's aisy now ; I'll be with 
her soon. And look ye, masther, I've learnt one thing — 
God is good; He wouldn't let me bring Nora over to me, 
but he's takin' me over to her, and Jamesy over the river; 
don't you see him and her standin' on the other side to 
welcome me? " 

And with these words Connor stretched out his arms. 
Perhaps he did see Nora — Heaven only knows — and so 
died. 

DR. PARKER. 



CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE, 

Half a league, half a league, 

Half a league onward, 
All in the valley of death 

Rode the six hundred. 
"Forward, the Light Brigade! 
Charge for the guns ! " he said. 
Into the valley of death, 

Rode the six hundred. 

" Forward, the Light Brigade! " 
Was there a man dismayed ? 
Not though the soldiers knew 

Some one had blundered : 
Theirs not to make reply, 
Theirs not to reason why, 
Theirs but to do and die : 
Into the valley of death, 

Rode the six hundred. 



CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. 31 

Cannon to the right of them, 
Cannon to the left of them, 
Cannon in front of them, 

Volleyed and thundered : 
Stormed at with shot and shell, 
Boldly they rode and well : 
Into the jaws of death, 
Into the mouth of hell, 

Rode the six hundred. 

Flashed all their sabers bare, 
Flashed as they turned in air, 
Sab'ring the gunners there, 
Charging an army, while 

All the world wondered : 
Plunged in the battery smoke, 
Right through the line they broke ; 
Cossack and Russian 
Reeled from the saber-stroke, 

Shattered and sundered. 
Then they rode back — but not, 

Not the six hundred. 

Cannon to the right of them, 
Cannon to the left of them, 
Cannon behind them, 

Volleyed and thundered : 
Stormed at with shot and shell, 
While horse and hero fell, 
They that had fought so well, 
Came through the jaws of death, 
Back from the mouth of hell, 
All that was left of them, 

Left of six hundred. 

When can their glory fade? 
Oh, the wild charge they made! 

All the world wondered. 
Honor the charge they made ! 
Honor the Light Brigade, 

Noble six hundred. 



32 scorer's successful recitations. 

"IMPH— M." 

( SCOTCH DIALECT. ) 

When I was a laddie langsyne at the sehule, 
The maister aye ca'd me a dunce an' a fule ; 
For somehoo his words I could ne'er un'erstan', 
Unless when he bawled " Jamie ! haud oot yer nan' !" 

Then I gloom'd, and said u Imph-m," 

I glunch'd, and said u Imph-m — " 
I wasna owre proud, but owre dour to say a-y-e ! 

Ae day a queer word, as lang nebbit's himsel', 
He vow'd he would thrash me if I wadna spell, 
Quo I, n maister Quill ! 'wi' a kin' o' a swither, 
u I'll spell ye the word if ye'll spell me anither. 

Let's hear ye spell c Imph-m,' 

That common word fc Imph-m,' 
That auld Scotch word 'Imph-m,' ye ken it means a-y-e!" 



Had ye seen hoo he glowr'd, hoo he scratched his big pate, 
An' shouted, "ye villain, get oot o' my gate ! 
Get aff to yer seat ! yer the plague o' the sehule ! 
The de'il o' me kens if yer maist rogue or fule." 

But I only said " Imph-m," 

That pawkie word " Imph-m," 
He couldna spell u Imph-m," that stands for an a-y-e! 



An' when a brisk wooer, I courted my Jean — 
O' Avon's braw lasses the pride an' the queen — 
When 'neath my grey plaidie, wi' heart beatin' fain, 
I speired in a whisper if she'd be my aim 

She blush'd, an' said u Imph-m," 

That charming word u Imph-m," 
A thoosan' times better an' sweeter than- A-y-e ! 

Just ae thing I wanted my bliss to complete — 
Ae kiss frae her rosy mou\ cauthie an' sweet — 



THE courtin'. 33 

But a shake o' her heid was her only reply — 

Of course, that said No, hut I kent she meant A-y-e, 

For her twa een said " Iinph-m," 

Her red lips said " Imph-m," 
Her hale face said " Imph-m," an' u Imph-m" means A-y-e. 

JAMES NICHOLSON. 



THE COURTIN', 

( YANKEE DIALECT. ) 



God makes sech nights, all white an' still 

Fur 'z you can look or listen. 
Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill, 

All silence an' all glisten. 

Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown 
An' peeked in thru' the winder, 

An' there sot Huldy all alone, 
'Ith no one nigh to hinder. 

A fireplace filled the room's one side 
With half a cord o' wood in — 

There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) 
To bake ye to a puddin'. 



The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out 
Towards the pootiest, bless her, 

An' leetle flames danced all about 
The chiny on the dresser. 



Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung, 

An' in amongst 'em rusted 
The ole queen's arm that gran'ther Young 

Fetched back from Concord busted. 



34 scorer's successful recitations. 

The very room, coz she was in, 
Seemed warm from floor to ceilin', 

An' she looked full ez rosy agin 
Ez the apples she was peelin'. 

'T was kin' o' kingdom-come to look 

On sech a blessed creetur, 
A dogrose blushin' to a brook 

Ain't modester nor sweeter. 

He was six foot o' man, A 1, 

Clean grit an' human natur' ; 
None could n't quicker pitch a ton 
. Nor dror a furrer straighter. 

He'd sparked it with full twenty gals, 
Had squired 'em, danced 'em, druv 'em, 

Fust this one, an' then thet, by spells — 
All is, he could n't love 'em. 

But long o' her his veins 'ould run 
All crinkly like curled maple, 

The side she breshed felt full o' sun, 
Ez a south slope in Ap'il. 

She thought no v'ice hed 'sech a swing 
Ez hisn in the choir ; ♦ 

My ! when he made Ole Hundred ring, 
She knowed the Lord was nigher. 

An she'd blush scarlit, right in prayer, 
When her new meetin'-bunnet 

Felt somehow thru' its crown a pair 
O' blue eyes sot upon it. 

Thet night, I tell ye, she looked some! 

She seemed to 've gut a new soul, 
For she felt sartin-sure he'd come, 

Down to her very shoe-sole. 



3n 



She heered a foot, an' knowed it tu* 

A-raspin' on the scraper, — 
All ways to once her feelin's flew 

Like sparks in burnt-up paper. 

He kin' o' l'itered on the mat, 

Some doubtfle o' the sekle, 
His heart kep' goin' pity-pat, 

But hern went pity Zekle. 

An' yit she gin her cheer a jerk 
Ez though she wished him furder, 

An' on her apples kep' to work, 
Parin' away like murder. 

"You want to see my Pa, I s'pose? " 
" Wal ... no ... I come designin' "■ 

"" To see my ma? She's sprinkiin' clo'es 
Agin to-morrer's i'nin'." 

To say why gals act so or so, 

Or don't 'ould be presumin' ; 
Mebby to mean yes an' say no 

Comes nateral to women. 

He stood a spell on one foot fust, 
Then stood a spell on t'other, 

An' on which one he felt the wust 
He couldn't ha' told ye nuther. 

Says he, " I'd better call agin" ; 

Says she, " Think likely, Mister"; 
Thet last word pricked him like a pin, 

An' . . . Wal, he up an' kist her. 

When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips, 

Huldy sot pale ez ashes, 
All kin' o' smily 'roun the lips 

An' teary 'roun the lashes. 



36 scorer's successful recitations. 

For she was jes' the quiet kind 

Whose naturs never vary, 
Like streams that keep a summer mind 

Snowhid in Jenooary. 

The blood clost roun' her heart felt glued 

Too tight for all expressing 
Tell mother see how matters stood, 

An gin 'em both her blessin'. 

Then her red come back like the tide 

Down to the Bay o' Fundy, 
An' all I know is they was cried 

In meetin' come nex' Sunday. 

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 



HOW "RUBY" PLAYED. 



YANKEE DIALECT. ) 

Jud Browning, when visiting New York, heard Rubinstein perform 
upon the piano, and after his return to his home in Vermont, is sup- 
posed to give the following description of the performance to a number 
of his friends: 



Wall, sir, he hed the blamedest, biggest, catty-corned- 
est pianner you ever laid eyes onter; somethin' like a 
distracted billiard table on three legs. The led wus 
histed, and mighty wall it wus. If it hedn't a been, 
he'd a tore the intire enside clean out, and scattered 'em 
to the four winds of heaven. 

Eh, played well? Er-ugh! Wall I reckon; but don't 
interrupt me. When he fust sot down, he 'peared to keer 
mighty little 'bout playin' and wisht he hedn't come. He 
tweedle-leed'ed a leetle on the treble, and twoodle-oodldd 
some on the base — jest foolin and boxin' the things jawa 
for bein' in his way. And I says to a man set-tin' next to 
me, says I : " What sort of fool playin' do you call that?" 
"Heish!" But presently his hands commenced chasin* 



HOW "ruby" tlayed. 37 

one another up and down the keys, like a passel of rats 
scamperin' through a garret very swift. Parts of it wus 
sweet, though, and reminded me of a sugar squirrel 
tarnin' the wheel of a candy cage. 

Says I, to my neighbor, says I, " he's showin' off. 
He thinks he's a-doin' it, but he ain't got no idee, no plan 
of nothin'. If he'd play me a tune of some kind or 
other I'd—" 

"Heish!" 

I wus jest about to git up and go hum, bein' tired of 
that foolishness, when I heard a little bird wakin' up 
away off in the woods, and call sleepy-like to his mate, 
and I looked up and see that Rubin wus beginnin' to take 
some interest in his business, and I sot down agin. It 
wus the peep o' day. The light came faint from the east, 
the breezes blowed gentle and fresh, some more birds 
waked up in the orchard, then some more in the trees 
near the house, and all begun singin' together. People 
began to stir, and the gal opened the shutters. Jest then 
the fust beam of the sun fell upon the blossoms a leetle 
more, and techt the roses on the bushes, and the next 
thing it wus broad day, the sun fairly blazed, the birds 
sang like they'd split thar leetle throats; all the leaves 
wus a movin', and flashin' diamonds of dew, and the hull 
wide world wus bright and happy as a king. Peared to 
me like thar wus a good breakfast in every house in the 
land, and not a sick woman or child anywhar. It wus a 
fine mornin'. 

Says I to my neighbor, says I : "That's what I call 
music, that is." 

But he glared at me like he'd like to cut my throat. 

Then the sun went down, it got dark, the wind moan- 
ed and wept like a lost child fur its dead mother, and I 
could a got up then and thar and preached a better sermon 
than any I ever listened to. Thar warn't a thing in the 
world left to live fur, not a blame thing, and yet I didn't 
want that music to stop one bit. It was happier to be 
miserable than it was to be miserable without bein' happy. 
I couldn't understand it. I hung my head, pulled out my 
handkerchief, and sneezed, real loud like to keep from 
cryin'. My eyes is weak anyway; I didn't want anybody 



38 scorer's successful recitations. 

a-gazin' at me a-snivlin', and it's nobody's business what 
I do with my nose. It's my own. But some several 
glared at me mad as blazes. Then, all of a sudden, old 
Rubin changed his tune. He r-r-r-ripped and he r-r-r- 
rared, he tipped and he tared, he pranced and he charged 
like the grand entry at a circus. 'Peared to me like all 
the gas in the house wus turned on at the same time, 
things got so bright, and I hilt up my head, ready to look 
any man in the face, and I didn't care for nobody or 
nothin'. It was a circus, and a brass band, and a big ball 
all goin' on at the same time. He r-r-r-ripped into them 
keys like a thousand of brick ; he give 'em no rest night 
or day; he sot every livin' jint in me a-goin' and not be- 
in' able to stand it any longer, I jumped spang onto my 
feet, and jest hollered : 

"Go it Ruby, old boy, go it! " 

Every blamed man, woman, and child in the house 
riz on me, and shouted, " Put him out ! " " Put him out !" 
"Put him out!" 

"Put your great grandmother's grizzly gray greenish 
cat into the middle of next month ! " says I. "Tech me if 
you dare? I paid my money — Oh you jest come a-nigh 
me." 

With that several policemen run up, and I had to sim- 
mer down. But I would a-fit any fool that laid hands on 
me, fur 1 was bound to hear Ruby out or die. 

He changed his tune agin. He hop-light ladies and 
tip-toed fine from end to end of the key-board. He 
played low, and soft and solemn. I heard the church bell- 
11-lls over the hills. The candles of heaven wus lit; one 
by one I saw the stars rise.. The great organ of eternity 
began to play from the world's end to the world's end and 
all the angels went to prayers. Then the music changed 
to water, full of feelin' that couldn't be thought, and 
began to drop — drip, drop — drip, drop, clear and sweet, 
like tears of joy falling into a lake of glory. Oh it 
wus sweeter than that. It wus as sweet as a sweet- 
heart sweetened with white sugar mixed with powdered 
silver and seed diamonds. Oh jest too sweet. I tell you 
the audience cheered. Rubin, he kinder bowed, like he 
wanted to say, " Much obleeged, but I'd ruther you 



HOW "ruby" played. 39 

wouldn't interrup' me." 

He stopt a minute or two to ketch breath. Then he 
got mad. He run his fingers through his hair, he shoved 
up his sleeves, he opened his coat tails a leetle further, he 
he drug up his stool, he leaned over and, sir, he jest went 
for that old pianner. He slapt her face, he boxed her 
jaws, he pulled her nose, he pinched her ears, and he 
scratched her cheeks until she fairly yelled. He ran a 
quarter stretch down the low grounds of the base, till he 
got clean into the bowels of the arth, whar you could 
hear thunder galloping after thu-n-der, through the hol- 
lows and caves of pardition; then fox-chased his right 
hand with his left till he got away out of the treble into 
the clouds, whar the notes wus finer than the pints of 
cambric needles, and you couldn't hear nothin but the 
shadders of 'em. And then he wouldn't let the old 
pianner go. He for'ard two'd, he crossed over fust gentle- 
man, he chassade right and left, back to your places, he 
all hands'd aroun', ladies to the right, promenade all, in 
and out, here and thar, back and forth, up and down, 
perpetual motion, double twisted and turned and tacked 
and tangled into forty-eleven thousand double bow knots. 

Oh by jinks! it was a mixtery. And then he wouldn't 
let the old pianner go. He fetched up his right wing, he 
fetched up his left wing, he fetched up his centre, he fetched 
up his resarves. He fired by file, he fired by platoons, by 
company, by regiments, and by brigades. He opened his can- 
non — siege guns down thar, Napoleons here, twelve pounders 
yonder — big guns, little guns, middle-sized guns, round 
shot, shells, shrapnels, grape, canister, mortar, mines and 
magazines, every livin' battery and bomb a-goin' at the 
same time. The house trembled, the lights danced, the 
walls shuk, the floor came up an' the ceilin' come down, the 
sky split, an' the ground rokt, — heavens and earth, creation, 
sweet-potatoes, glory, ninepences, ten-penny nails, Samp- 
son in a 'simmon tree, p-r-r-r- ! p-r-r-r-r ! ! p-r-r-r-r ! ! L 
Bang ! ! ! 

With that bang ! he lifted himself bodily into the a'r 
and he came down with his knees, his ten fingers, his ten 
toes, his elbows, and his nose, strikin' every single solitary 



40 scorer's successful recitations. 

key on that pianner at the same time. An ? the thing busted 
and went off into seventeen hundred fifty-seven thousand 
five hundred and forty-two heme-demi-semi quivers, and I 
know'd no more\ 



JOHN BURNS OF GETTYSBURG. 

Have you heard the story that gossips tell 

Of Burns of Gettysburg? No? Ah, well:— 

Brief is the glory that hero earns, 

Briefer the story of poor John Burns : 

He was the fellow who won renown — 

One of the men who didn't back down 

When the rebels rode through his native town 

But he held his own in the fight next day, 

When all his townsfolk ran away. 

That was in July, sixty-three, 

The very day that General Lee, 

Flower of southern chivalry. 

Baffled and beaten, backward reeled 

From a stubborn Meade and a barren field. 

I might tell how, but the day before, 
John Burns stood at his cottage door, 
Looking down the village street, 
Where, in the shade of his peaceful vine, 
He heard the low of his gathered kine, 
And felt their breath with incense sweet ; 
Or I might say, when the sunset burned 
The old farm gable, he thought it turned 
The milk, that fell in a babbling flood 
Into the milk-pail, red as blood ! 
Or how he fancied the hum of bees 
Were bullets whizzing among the trees. 

But all such fanciful thoughts as these 
Were strange to a practical man like Burns, 
Who minded only his own concerns, 



JOHN BURNS OF GETTYSBURG. 41 

Troubled no more by fancies fine, 

Than one of his calm-eyed, long-tailed kine — 

Quite old-fashioned, and matter-of-fact, 

Slow to argue, but quick to act. 

That was the reason, as some folks say, 

He fought so well on that terrible da}\ 

And it was terrible. On the right 

Raged for hours the heavy fight, 

Thundered the battery's double bass — 

Difficult music for men to face ; 

While on the left — where now the graves 

Undulate like the living waves 

That all the day unceasing swept 

Up to the pits the rebels kept — 

Round shot plowed the upland glades, 

Sown with bullets, reaped with blades; 

Shattered fences here and there 

Tossed their splinters in the air; 

The very trees were stripped and bare ; 

The barns that once held yellow grain 

Were heaped with harvests of the slain. 

The cattle bellowed on the plain, 

The turkeys screamed with might and main, 

And brooding barn-fowl left their rest 

With strange shells bursting in each nest. 

Just where the tide of battle turns, 
Erect and lonely, stood old John Burns. 

How do you think the man was dressed ? 
He wore an ancient, long buff vest, 
Yellow as saffron — but his best; 
And, buttoned over his manly breast 
Was a bright blue coat with a rolling collar, 
And large gilt buttons — size of a dollar — 
With tails that country-folk called " swaller." 
He wore a broad-brimmed, bell-crowned hat, 
White as the locks on which it sat. 
Never had such a sight been seen 



42 scorer's successful recitations. 

For forty years on the village-green, 
Since John Burns was a country beau, 
And went to the " quilting " long ago. 

Close at his elbows, all that day 

Veterans of the Peninsula, 

Sunburnt and bearded, charged away, 

And striplings, downy of lip and chin, — 

Clerks that the Home Guard mustered in — 

Glanced as they passed .at the hat he wore, 

Then at the rifle his right hand bore ; 

And hailed him from out their youthful lore, 

With scraps of a slangy repertoire : 

" How are you, White Hat? " " Put her through ! " 

u Your head's level ! " and, " Bully for you ! " 

Called him " Daddy " — and begged he'd disclose 

The name of the tailor who made his clothes, 

And what was the value he set on those ; 

While Burns, unmindful of jeer and scoff, 

Stood there picking the rebels off — 

With his long, brown rifle and bell-crown hat, 

And the swallow-tails they were laughing at. 

'T was but a moment, for that respect 

Which clothes all courage their voices checked ; 

And something the wildest could understand 

Spake in the old man's strong right hand, 

And his corded throat, and the lurking frown 

Of his eyebrows under his old-bell crown ; 

Until, as they gazed, there crept an awe 

Through the ranks in whispers, and some men saw, 

In the antique vestments and long white hair 

The Past of the Nation in battle there. 

And some of the soldiers since declare 

That the gleam of the old man's hat afar, 

Like the crested plume of the brave Navarre, 

That day was their oriflamme of war. 

Thus raged the battle. You know the rest; 

How the rebels, beaten, and backward pressed, 

Broke at the final charge and ran. 



THE TWO BOOT-BLACKS. 4$ 

At which John Burns — a practical man 
Shouldered his rifle, unbent his brows, 
And then went back to his bees and cows. 

That is the story of old John Burns ; 

This is the moral the hearer learns : 

In lighting the battle, the question is whether 

You'll show a hat that's white, or a feather. 

BRET HARTE. 



THE TWO BOOT-BLACKS. 

A day or two ago during a lull in business, two little- 
boot-blacks, one white and one black, were standing at 
the corners doing nothing, when the white boot-black 
agreed to black the black boot-black's boots. The black 
boot-black was of course willing to have his boots blacked 
by his fellow boot-black, and the boot-black who had 
agreed to black the black boot-black's boots went to work. 

When the boot-black had blacked one of the black 
boot-black's boots till it shone in a manner that would 
make any boot-black proud, this boot-black who had 
agreed to black the black boot-black's boots refused to 
black the other boot of the black boot-black until the 
black boot-black, who had consented to have the white 
boot-black black his boots, should add five cents to the 
amount the white boot-black had made blacking other 
men's boots. This the boot-black whose boot had been 
blacked refused to do, saying it was good enough for a 
black boot-black to have one boot blacked, and he didn't, 
care whether the boot that the white boot-black hadn't 
blacked was blacked or not. 

This made the boot-black who had blacked the black 
boot-black's boot as angry as a boot-black often gets, and 
he vented his black wrath by spitting upon the blackened 
boot of the black boot-black. This roused the latent pas* 
sions of the black boot-black, and he proceeded to boot 
the white boot-black with the boot which the white boot- 



44 scorer's successful recitations. 

black had blacked. A fight ensued, in which the white 
boot-black who had refused to black the unblacked boot of 
the black boot-black, blacked the black boot-black's vis- 
ionary organ, and in which the black boot-black wore all 
the blacking off his blacked boot in booting the white 
boot-black. 



THE RUGGLESE8' DINNER-PARTY. 

( The character of Mrs. Ruggles is that of a New England fish-wife.) 

Before the earliest Ruggles could awake and toot his 
five-cent tin horn, Mrs. Ruggles was up and stirring, for. 
it was a gala day in the family. Her nine u childern " 
had been invited to a dinner-party at the great house 
across the way, and she had been preparing for the oc- 
casion ever since the receipt of the invitation. 

As soon as the scanty breakfast was over, Mrs. Rug- 
gles announced the plan of the campaign : 

" Now, Susan, you an' Kitty wash up the dishes; an' 
Peter, can't you spread up the beds, so 't I can git ter 
cuttin' out Larry's new suit? I ain't satisfied with his 
close, an' I thought in the night of a way to make him a 
dress out of my old plaid shawl — kinder Scotch style, yer 
know. You other boys clear out from under foot ! Clem, 
you and Con hop into bed with Larry while I wash yer 
underflannins. Sara Maud, I think 'twould be perfeckly 
han'som if you ripped them brass buttons off yer uncle's 
perliceman's coat an' sewed 'em in a row up the front o' 
yer green skirt. Susan you must iron out yours an' 
Kitty's apurns; an' there, I came mighty near forgettin' 
Peory's stockin's ! I counted the hull lot last night when 
I was washin' of 'em, an there ain't but nineteen anyhow 
yer fix 'em, an' no nine pairs mates nohow ; an' I ain't 
goin' ter have my childern wear odd stockin's to a dinner 
comp'ny, brought up as I was. Eily, run an' ask Mis 
Cull en ter' lend me a pair o' stockings for Peory, an' tell 
her if she will Peory'll give Jim half her candy when 
she gets home. Won't yer Peory? " 



THE RUGGLESES' DIXNER-FARTY. 45 

Peoria was young and greedy, and thought the rem- 
edy so much worse than the disease that she set up a 
deafening howl at the projected bargain. 

" Xo, no, I won't lick yer Christmas day, if yer drive 
me crazy ; but speak up smart, now, 'n say whether yer'd 
ruther give Jim Cullen half yer candy or go bare-legged 
ter the party? " 

The matter being put so plainly, Peoria dried her 
tears and chose the lesser evil. 

' t That's a lady. Now, you young ones that ain't 
doin' nothin', play all yer want ter before noontime, for 
after ye git through eatin', me 'n Sara Maud's goin' ter 
give yer sech a washin' an' a combin' an a dressin' as yer 
never had afore an' never will agin, an' then I'm goin' 
ter set yer down an' give yer two solid hours trainin' in 
manners; an' 'twont be no foolin' nuther." 

"All we've got ter do's go eat ! ' 

" Well, that's enough. There's more 'n one way of 
eatin', let me tell yer, an' you've got a heap ter learn 
about it, Peter Ruggles." 

The big Ruggleses worked so well that by one o'clock 
nine toilets were laid out in solemn grandeur. The law 
of compensation had been well applied; he that had 
necktie had no cuffs; she that had sash had no handker- 
chief; but they all had boots and a certain amount of 
clothing. 

" Xow, Sarah Maud, everythin' is red up an' we can 
begin. I've got a boiler 'n a kettle 'n pot o' hot water. 
Peter, you go into the bedroom, an' I'll take Susan, Kitty, 
Peory an' Cornelius; an' Sarah Maud, you take Clem, 'n 
Eily, 'n Larry, an' git as fur as you can with 'em, an' 
then I'll finish 'em off while you do yourself. 

Sara Maud couldn't have scrubbed with more decision 
if she had been doing floors. Not being satisfied with 
the '•tone'" of their complexions, she wound up by apply- 
ing Bristol brick from the knife-board, from under which 
the little Ruggleses issued red, raw and out of temper. 
When the clock struck three they were ready for the last 
touches. Then — exciting moment — came linen collars 
for some and neckties and bows for others, and Eureka! 
the Ruggleses were dressed, and Solomon in all his glory 



46 scorer's successful recitations. 

was not arrayed like one of these. A row of seats was 
formed down the middle of the kitchen, and Mrs. Rug- 
.gles surveyed them proudly as she wiped the sweat of 
honest toil from her brow. 

" Well, if I do say so as shouldn't, I never see a 
cleaner, more stylisher mess o' childern in my life ! Now, 
I've of'n told ye what kind of a family the McGrills was. 
I've got reason to be proud; your uncle is on the po-lice 
force o' .New York City. Now, I want ter see how yer 
goin' ter behave when yer git there ter-night. Let's 
start in at the beginnin' 'n act out the hull business. 
Pile into the bedroom every one of ye, an' show me how 
yer goin' ter go into the parlor. This '11 be the parlor, an' 
I '11 be Mis' Bird." 

The youngsters hustled into the next room in high 
glee. Presently there ensued such a clatter that you 
would have thought a herd of wild cattle had broken 
loose; the door opened and they straggled in, the little 
ones giggling, with Sarah Maud at the head, looking as if 
she had been caught stealing sheep, while Larry dis- 
graced himself by tumbling in head foremost. 

" There, I knew yer'd do it in some sech fool way; 
try it agin, 'n if Larry can't come in on two legs he can 
stay ter hum ! " 

The matter began to assume a grave aspect ; the little 
Puggleses stopped giggling and issued presently with 4 
lock step, Indian file, a scared expression on every coun- 
tenance. 

" No, no, no ! Yer look for all the world like a gang 
o' pris'ners; there ain't no style ter that; spread out 
more, an' act kind o' careless like — nobody's goin' ter 
kill yer! " 

The third time brought success. 

" Now, yer know there ain't enough decent hats to go 
round an' if there was I don't know's I 'd let yer wear 
'em, for the boys would never think to take 'em off. 
Now, look me in the eye. Yer needn't wear no hats, 
none of yer, an' when yer git into the parlor 'n they ask 
yer to lay off yer hats, Sarah Maud must speafc up an' say 
it was sech a pleasant evenin' an' sech a short walk that 
ye left yer hats to hum. Now can ye remember ? " 



THE RUGGLESES' DINNER-PARTY. 47 

All the little Ruggleses shouted, " Yes marm." k, Yes 
marm." ''Yesmanii." 

"What have you got ter do with it; did I tell you to 
say it? Wasn't I talking to Sarah Maud? Now, git up, all 
of ye, an' try it. Speak up, Sarah Maud." 

Sarah Maud's tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. 

-Quick!" 

-Ma thought — it was — sech a pleasant hat that we'd — 
we'd better leave our short walk to home." 

Oh dear, oh dear! whatever shall I do with yer?" " I 
suppose I've to teach it to yer ! " 

61 Now, Cornelius, what are you goin' ter say ter make 
yourself good company?" 

^Idunno!" 

"Well, ye ain't goin' to set there like a bump on a log 
'thout sayin' a word ter pay for yer vittles, air ye? Ask 
Mis' Bird how she's feelin' this evenin', or if Mr. Bird's 
havin' a busy season, or somethin' like that. Now, we'll 
make believe we've got ter the dinner; that won't be so 
hard, 'cause yer'll have something to do ; its awful bother- 
some ter stan ? round an' act stj r lish. If they have napkins, 
Sarah Maud down to Peory may put 'em in their laps, 'n 
the rest of ye can tuck 'em in yer necks. Don't eat with 
yer fingers ; don't grab no vittles off one 'nother's plates ; 
don't reach out for nothin', but wait till yer asked, 'n if yer 
never git asked, don't git up and grab it ; don't spill nothin' 
on the tablecloth, or like 's not Mis' Bird '11 send yer away 
from the table. Now, we '11 try a few things ter see how 
they '11 go. Mr Clement, do you eat cramb'ry sarse?" 

" Ye bet yer life ! " 

u Clement Ruggles, do ye mean to tell me that yer 'd 
say that to a dinner-party ? I'll give ye one more chance. 
Mr. Clement, will ye take some of the cramb'rys?" 

" Yes marm, thank ye kindly, if yer happen ter have 
any handy," 

" Very good, indeed ! Mr. Peter do you speak for white 
or dark meat?" 

4t I ain't partic'lar as ter color; anythin' that nobody 
else wants will suit me." 

w First rate! nobody could speak more genteel than 



48 scorer's successful recitations. 

that. Miss Kitty, will you have hard or soft sarse with your 
pudden ! " 

"A little of both, if you please, an' I'm much obliged. " 

u You just stop yer lafin', Peter Haggles; that was all 
right. Now, is there anythin' more ye'd like to practize?" 

6 *If yer tell me one more thing I can't set up an' eat, 
I'm so cram full o' manners now I'm ready to bust 'thout no 
dinner at all." 

"Well, I'm sorry for yer, Peter Ruggles, if the 'mount 
o' manners yer've got on hand troubles ye, you're dreadful 
easy hurt ! Now, Sarah Maud, after dinner, about once in 
so often you must say, w I guess we'd better be goin' ; ' an' if 
they say, 'Oh, no ; set a while longer,' yer can stay ; but if 
they don't say nothin' yer've got ter git up an' git. Can 
you remember?" 

"Well, seems as if this hull dinner-party sot right 
square on top o' me ! May be I could manage my own man- 
ners, but ter manage nine mannerses is worse 'n stayin' to 
hum !" 

u Oh, don't fret; I guess you'll git along. Now yer can 
go, an' whatever yer do, don't forget yer mother was a 
McGrill ! " 

The children went, Sarah Maud reciting under her 
breath, " It-was-sech-a-pleasant-evenin'-an'-sech-a-short 
walk-we-thought-we'd-leave-our-hats-to-hum." A ser- 
vant admitted them and, whispering in Sarah's ear, drew 
her down stairs. The other Ruggleses stood in horror- 
stricken groops as the door closed behind their command- 
ing officer. But there was no time for reflection, for a 
voice said, "Come right up stairs, please." Accordingly 
they went up stairs. But it was fate that Mrs. Bird 
should say, " Did you lay your hats in the hall? " Peter 
felt himself elected by circumstance the head of the fam- 
ily, and said, "It was so very pleasant that — that — " 
" That we hadn't good hats enough to go round," put in 
Susan, and then froze with horror that the ill-fated words 
had slipped off her tongue. 

At half-past H\e the dinner-table stood revealed and 
the Ruggleses, forgetting that their mother was a Mc- 
Grill, shrieked in admiration. Larry climbed up like a 
squirrel into the high chair that was set for him, clapped 



IN AN ATELIER. 49 

his hands and cried, "I beat the hull lot o' yer!" 

Peter nudged Kitty, who sat next him, and said: 
" Look, will yer, ev'ry feller's got his own particular but- 
ter; I s'pose that's to show yer can eat that much 'n no 
more. No, it ain't nuther, for that pig of a Peory's just 
gittin' another helpin' ! " 

" Yes," whispered Kitty, "an' the napkins is marked 
with big red letters ; I wonder if that 's so nobody '11 nip 
'em; an' oh, Peter, look at the pictures painted right on 
ter the dishes ; did you ever ! " 

" The plums is all took out o' my cramb'ry sarse, an' 
it's friz to a jell !" shouted Peoria. 

" Hi — yah ! I got a wish-bone ;" sung Larry. 

" I declare to goodness, there's so much to look at I 
can't scrasely eat nothin' ! " murmured Susan. 

" Bet yer life I can ! " said Peter, who had kept one 
servant busy ever since he sat down. 

The feast being over, a door was opened and there 
stood the brilliantly lighted Christmas tree, glittering 
with gilded walnuts , and wreathed with snowy chains 
of pop-corn. You can well believe that everybody was 
very merry. All the family said they had never seen so 
much happiness in the space of three hours ; and when, at 
half-past eight, the little Kuggleses were sent home, it 
was with the happiest of thoughts about Kuggleses' Din- 
ner-party. 

KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN. 



IN AN ATELIER, 



I pray you, do not turn your head; 
And let your hands lie folded, so. 
It was a dress like this, wine-red, 
That Dante liked so, long ago. 
You don't know Dante ? Never mind. 
He loved a lady wondrous fair — 
His model? Something of the kind. 
I wonder if she had your hair ! 



50 scorer's successful recitations. 

I wonder if she looked so meek, 
And was not meek at all (my dear, 
I want that side light on your cheek). 
He loved her, it is very clear, 
And painted her, as I paint you, 
But rather better, on the whole 
(Depress your chin ; yes, that will do) : 
He was a painter of the soul ! 

(And painted portraits, too, I think, 
In the Inferno — devilish good ! 
I'd make some certain critics blink 
If I'd his method and his mood.) 
Her name was (Fanny, let your glance 
Eest there, by that majolica tray) — 
Was Beatrice ; they met by chance — 
They met by chance, the usual way. 

(As you and I met, months ago, 
Do you remember ? How your feet 
Went crinkle-crinkle on the snow 
Along the bleak gas-lighted street ! 
An instant in the drug-store's glare 
You stood as in a golden frame, 
And then I swore it, then and there, 
To hand your sweetness down to fame.) 

They met, and loved, and never wed 
(All this was long before our time), 
And though they died, they are not dead — 
Such endless youth gives mortal rhyme ! 
Still walks the earth, with haughty mien, 
Great Dante, in his soul's distress ; 
And still the lovely Florentine 
Goes lovely in her wine-red dress. 

You do not understand at all ? 

He was a poet; on his page 

He drew her; and, though kingdoms fall, 

This lady lives from age to age : 



IN AN ATELIER. 51 

A poet — that means painter too, 
For words are colors rightly laid ; 
And they outlast our brightest hue, 
For varnish cracks and crimsons fade. 

The poets — they are lucky ones ! 

When we are thrust upon the shelves, 

Our works turn into skeletons 

Almost as quickly as ourselves; 

For our poor canvas peels at length, 

At length is prized — when all is bare : 

<l What grace ! " the critics cry, " what strength ! " 

When neither strength nor grace is there. 

Ah, Fanny, I am sick at heart, 
It is so little one can do ; 
We talk our jargon — live for Art ! 
I'd much prefer to live for you. 
How dull and lifeless colors are ! 
You smile, and all my picture lies : 
I wish that I could crush a star 
To make a pigment for your eyes. 

Yes, child, I know I'm out of tune; 
The light is bad ; the sky is gray : 
I'll paint no more this afternoon, 
So lay your royal gear away. 
Besides, you're moody — chin on hand — 
I know not what — not in the vein — 
Xot like Anne Bullen, sweet and bland: 
You sit there smiling in disdain. 

Not like bluff Harry's radiant Queen, 
Unconscious of the coming woe, 
But rather as she might have been, 
Preparing for the headsman's blow. 
I see ! I've put you in a miff — 
Sitting bolt-upright, wrist on wrist. 
How should you look? Why, dear, as if — 
Somehow — as if you'd just been kissed ! 

T. B. ALDRICH. 



52 scorer's successful RECITATIONS. 

CHKISTOPHER COLUMBUS. 

( ITALIAN DIALECT. ) 

Explanation.— Seignior De Ponce was engaged to deliver the ad- 
dress at a recent Columbian Celebration . A few days prior to the date- 
of his engagement, he, accompanied by his wife, went to Washington. 
Shortly after their arrival in the "Capital City," the wife was* 
taken sick and he was unable to keep his appointment. The president 
of the celebration, a swarthy Italian, attempts to make the speech. 

*Note.— The names in the last two paragaphs of this selection 
should be changed as required to be in harmony with the times. 

THE SPEECH. 

Ladies a' Gent: I very sorry th' night, to be a com- 
pella to mak' a de excuze for dis great a de man — De 
Ponce. 

You know he a great a de man, a man a can mak' a 
great a de speech. You know it am no fake — de man dat 
mak' a de Ian'. This a great a de man, De Ponce, he go 
to de city de Wash' to see de Prez. an' Jimmy Balain; 
an' de wife a tak' a de seeck, an' he can no come to pre- 
side de night at dis a great a de meet. 

I am no great a de man to mak' a de speech, but I try 
do best I can. If I mak' a bad a break, I trust you 
mak' a de excuze. 

Well, you know dis a great a country. We sell a de 
banan', we squeeze it to mak' it de ripe. We sell a de 
penuta, a grind a de org', a nab a de munk', anything to 
mak' a de mun. 

Well, about a four a hundred year — about a four a 
hundred — I cannot tell what to talk about, but I glad to 
see you here de night. 

Well you know dis a great country — Americ'. You 
know de man dat mak' a dis a great Americ' — ah-ah-ah- 
eh? — yes, Crist de Columb. He a great a de man dis 
Crist de Columb. He go to de king Fortinan, an' he 
say to de King Fortinan, u Me like a hab a de ships, de 
solds, de mun, to go mak' a de new discov'." An' King 
Fortinan he say, "Yes, go, tak' a de ships, de mun, de 
solds an' mak' a de new discov'." So he go a four a five a 



CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS. 53 

day on de-de-de-de wat. Finely he mak' a de land an ' 
find a de Ind\ Crist de Columb expecit to hab a de fight, 
but de Ind. get down on de knee, an' he say to Crist de 
Columb, ''Are you Crist de Columb?" An Crist de 
Columb say, "Yes." De Ind. say, "Den we're dis- 
co v'ed." 

An other a great a de man, de first prez of dis great a 
United State, er-er-what de name-de-name-George de 
Wash. He do a great a thing for dis great a United State. 
He mak' a dis grate a United State independ. 

An other man, they call Abe de Line. He do a great 
a cle thing for de poor nig'. He mak' a de poor nig a de 
free. 

Gen' Gran he a great a de man, with heart true like a 
de steel an' strong like a de iron. He fight to keep de 
whole of dis great a United State. Gen' Lee he fight too. 
He want part of dis great a United State. But Gen' 
Gran' say, "no! me want to keep de whole of dis a 
great a United State." 

*Jimruy Balaine, he a great a de man too. He want 
to be de nex' prez of dis great a United State but Beny 
Harris' say, " ]STo, me want to be de nex' prez of dis 
great a United State meself." 

An other great a de man, de man that mak' de high 
tar'flf — Billy MeKin'. He a great a de man. De people 
mak' him gov' of de great State o' Ohi'. He want to be 
de nex' prez o' dis great United — but-but-er-er. Me can 
no' tell what to say, but I glad to see you here de night. 
I said I was no great a de man to mak' a de speech. I 
mak' a de break, I trust you make a de excuze. 

ARR. BY J. G. SCORER. 



A very talkative youth came to Socrates to study ora- 
tory. The philosopher charged him two prices, stating 
as a reason, that he must teach the youth two sciences; 
how to hold his tongue, and how to speak. 

An affected young lady, on being asked in a large 
company, if she had read Shakspeare, assumed a look of 
astonishment and replied : " Read Shakspeare ! Of course 
I have ; I read that when it first came out." 



54 scorer's successful recitations. 

A NIGHT OF TKOUBLES. 

Truly last night was a night of troubles to us. We 
was kept awake all the forepart of the night with cats 
fightin'. It does beat all how they went on, how many 
there was of 'em I don't know; Josiah thought there was 
upwards of 50. I myself made a calm estimate of be- 
tween 3 and 4. What under heavens they found to talk 
about so long, and in such unearthly voices, is a mystery 
tome. You couldn't sleep no more than if you was in 
Pandemonium. And about 11, I guess it was, I heard 
Thomas Jefferson holler out of his chamber winder : 

"You have preached long enough brothers on that text, 
I'll put in a seventhly for you." And then I heard a brick 
fall. " You've protracted your meetin' here plenty long 
enough. You may adjourn now to somebody else's win- 
dow and exhort them a spell." And then I heard an- 
other brick fall. " Now I wonder if you'll come round 
on this circuit right away." 

Thomas Jefferson's room is right over ourn, and I riz 
up in the end of the bed and hollered to him to " stop his 
noise." But Josiah said, " do let him be, do let him kill 
the old creeters, I am wore out." 

Says I "Josiah I don't mind his killin' the cats, but I 
won't have him talkin' about their holdin' protracted 
meetin' and preachin', I won't have it," says I. 

u Wall, do lay down, the most I care for now is to get 
rid of the cats." 

Says I, "you do have wicked streaks Josiah, and the 
way you let that boy go on is just awful, where do you 
think you will go to Josiah Allen ? " 

"I'll go into another bed if you can't stop talkin'. 
I've been kept awake till midnight by them creeters, and 
now you want to finish the night." 

Josiah is a real even tempered man, but nothin' 
makes him so kinder fretful as to be kept awake by cats* 
And it is awful. 

Sometimes as you listen, you will get encouraged, 
thinkin' that last yawl really finished 'em, and you 
begin to be sleepy, when they break out agin' all of a sud- 



A NIGHT OF TROUBLES. 55 

den with m-e-w, m-e-w, m-e-w, in a small fine voice. It is 
discouraging and I couldn't deny it, so I lay down and 
we both went to sleep, 

I hadn't more'n got into a nap, when Josiah waked 
me up groanin', "Oh them darned cats are at it agin." 

" Well, you needn't swear so, if they be." I listened 
a minute, and says I, "it hain't cats." 

Says he, "it is." 

Says I, "Josiah Allen, I know better, it hain't cats." 

"Wall what is it, if it hain't cats? " 

I sot up in the end of the bed, and pushed back my night 
cap from my right ear and listened, and says I, 

" It is a akordeun." 

" How come a akordeun under our winder ? " says he. 

Says I, "It is Shakspeare Bobbet seranadin' Tirzah 
Ann, and he has got under the wrong winder." 

He leaped out of bed, and started for the door. 

Says I, "Josiah Allen come back here this minute, do 
you realize your condition? you hain't dressed." 

He siezed his hat from the bureau, and put it on his 
head, and went on. Says I, "Josiah Allen if you go to 
the door in that condition, I'll prosicute you; what do 
you mean actin' so to-night? you was young once your- 
self." 

"Wall I wuzzn't a confounded fool if I was young," 
says he. 

Says I, " come back to bed Josiah Allen, do you want 
to get the Bobbets'es and the Dobbs'es mad at you? " 

"Yes I do." 

" I should think you would be ashamed Josiah swear- 
in' and actin' as you have to-night, come back to bed this 
minute Josiah Allen." 

It hain't often I set up, but when I do, I will be 
minded ; so finally he took off* his hat and went to bed, 
and there we had to lay and listen. Not one word could 
Tirzah Ann hear, for her room was clear to the other end 
of the house, and such a time as I had to keep Josiah in 
the bed. The first he played was what they call an in- 
voluntary, and I confess it did sound like a cat, before 
they get to me-e-w — m-e-w. You know they will go on 
kinder meloncholy. He went on in that way for a length 



56 scorer's successful recitations. 

of time, then he broke out singin' a tune the chorus of 
which was, 

" Oh think of me — oh think of me." 
4 'No danger of our not thinkin' on you," says Josiah, 
• ; no danger on it." 

It was a long piece and he played and sung it in a slow, 
and affectm* manner. 

He then broke out into another piece, the chorus of 
which was, 

"Curb oh curb thy bosom's pain 
I'll come again, I'll come again." 

No you won't come again, you'll never get away; I will 
get up Samantha." 

Says I, u Josiah Allen, if you make another move, I'll 
part with you, it does beat all, how you keep actin' to- 
night ; hain't it as hard for me as it is for you? but that is 
jest the way with you men, you hain't no more patience 
than nothin' in the world, you was young once yourself." 

u Throw that in my face agin* will you? what if I wnz ! 
Oh do hear him go on." a Curb oh curb thy bosom's pain." 
If I was out there my young feller, I would give you a pain 
you couldn't curb so easy, though it might not be in your 
bosom." 

Says I, u Josiah Allen, you have showed more wicked- 
ness to-night, than I thought you had in 3^ou. How would 
you like to have your pastur. and Deacon Dobbs, and sister 
Graves hear your revengeful threats? You have fell 25 
cents in my estimation to-night." 

4i Wall, what comfort is there in his prowlin' round 
here, makin' two old folks lay all night in perfect agony?" 

Just then he begun a new piece. 

He thinks he is in love with Tirzah Ann, which is jest as 

bad as long as it lasts as if he was; jest as painful to him 

and to her. As I said he sung these words : 

44 When I think of thee, thou lovely dame, 
I feel so weak and overcame, 

For Tirzah Ann, 

I am a meloncholly man." 

He didn't sing but one more piece after this. I don't 
remember the words, but the chorus of each verse was : 

"Oh! I'm languishing for thee, Oh! I'm languishing for thee, O — h! 
for thee." 



FOREIGN VIEWS OF THE STATUE. 57 

Jest then we heard Thomas Jefferson speakin' out of the 
winder overhead. 

fc4 My musical young friend, haven't you languished 
enough for one night? Because if you have, father and 
mother and I, bein' kept awake by other serenaders the 
forepart of the night, will love to excuse you. will thank 
you for your labers in our behalf, and love to bid you good 
evenin\ Tirzah Ann bein' fast asleep in the tother end of the 
house. But don't let me hurry you Shakspeare, my dear 
young friend, if you hain't languished enough, you keep 
right on languishin\ I hope I hain't hard hearted enough to 
deny a young man and neighbor the privilege of languishin\ 
Ta-ta, Shakspeare, ta-ta.*' 

I heard a sound of footsteps under the winder, followed 
seemin'ly instantaneously by the rattlhr of the board fence 
at the extremity of the garden. 

A button was found under the winder in the morning. 
That button and a few locks of Malta fur, is all we have left 
to remind us of our night of troubles. 

^JOSIAH ALLEN'S WIFE." 



FOKEIGN VIEWS OF THE STATUE. 

On the deck of a steamer that came up the Bay, 
Some garrulous foreigners gathered one day, 
To vent their opinions on matters and things 

On this side of the Atlantic, 

In language pedantic. 
'Twas much the same gathering that any ship brings. 



"Ah, look!" said the Frenchman, with pride his lips 
" See ze Liberte Statue enlighten ze World ! [curled ; 

Ze grandest colossal zat evair vas known ! 

Thus Bartholdi, he speak : 

Vive la France — Amerique ! 
La belle France make ze statue, and God make ze stone !" 



58 



Said the Scotchman : ll Na need o'yer spekin' sae free! 
The thing is na sma', sir, that we canna see. 
Do ye think that wi'oot ye the folk couldna tell? 

Sin' 'tis Liberty's Statye, 

I ken na why thatye 
Did na keep it at hame to enlighten yoursel ! " 



The Englishman gazed through his watch-crystal eye: 
" Ton 'onor, by Jove, it is too beastly 'igh ! 
A monstwosity, weally, too lawge to be seen ! 

In pwoportion, I say, 

It's too lawge faw the Bay. 
So much lawger than one we've at 'ome of the Queen !" 



An Italian next joined the colloquial scrimmage : 

" I dress-a my monk just like-a de image, 

I call-a 'Bartholdi' Frenchman got-a de spunk- 

Acall-a me 'Macaron' 

Alose-a me plendy moan ! 
He break-a de organ and keel-a de monk ! " 



Said Pat : " By the home rule ! And that is Libertee ! 

She's the biggest owld woman that iver I see ! 

Phy don't she sit down ? 'Tis a shame she's to stand. 

But the truth is, Oi'm tow Id, 

That the sthone is too cowld. 
Would ye moind the shillalah she howlds in her hand!'* 



Said Isaac : " Shust vait unt I dolt you, vat's der matter : 
It vas von uf dem mairmaits coomed ouwd fun der vater ; 
Unt she hat noddings on ; unt der vintry vind plows, 

Unt fur shame, unt fur pidy, 

She vent to der cidy, 
Unt buyed her a suit ob dem reaty-mate clo's." 



Cried Sambo : "Oh ! dat's de cullud man's Lor' ! 
He's cum back to tie earf ; somefin' he's lookin' for, 



DICK SWIVELLER AND THE MARCHIONESS. O& 

Alius knowed by de halo surroundin' he's brow; 

Jess you looken dat crown ! 

Jess you looken dat gown ! 
Lor' 'a' mussy, I knows I's a gone nigga' now! " 

Said the Yankee: "Wall I've heerd yediscussin' her rigger; 
And I reckon you strangers hain't seen nuthin' bigger. 
Wall, I hain't much on boastin' but I'll go my pile : 

When you furreners cum 

You'll find her to hum! 
Eh, dew I mean what I say ? Wall somewhat — I should 

[ smile I 

FRED EMERSON BROOKS. 



DICK SWIVELLEK AND THE MARCHIONESS. 

( FROM OLD CURIOSITY SHOP. ) 

Characters:— Swiveller, a clerk in the office of Sampson Brass* 
Esq. The Marchioness, a small servant in the house of Mr. and Mrs. 
Brass. 

One circumstance, however, troubled Mr. Swiveller 
very much. 

" Now, I'd give something — if I had it — to know how 
they use that child, and where they keep her. My 
mother must have been a very inquisitive woman ; I have 
no doubt I'm marked with a note of interrogation some- 
where — but upon my word I would like to know how 
they use her." 

Just at this moment Mr. Swiveller caught a parting 
glimpse of the brown head-dress of Miss Brass flitting 
down the kitchen stairs. 

11 By Jove! she's going to feed the servant. Now or 
never." 

First allowing the head-dress to disappear in the 
darkness below, he groped his way down, and arrived at 
the door of a back kitchen immediately after Miss Brass 
had entered the same, bearing in her hand a cold leg of 



60 scorer's successful recitations. 

mutton, it was a very dark miserable place, very low, 
and very damp, the walls disfigured by a thousand rents 
and blotches. 

The water was trickling out of a leaky butt, and a 
most wretched cat was lapping up the drops with the 
sickly eagerness of starvation. Everything was locked 
up; the coal-cellar, the candle-box, the salt-box, the meat 
safe. There was nothing that a beetle could lunch upon. 
The pinched and meagre aspect of the place would have 
killed a chamelion. He would have known at the first 
mouthful that the air was not eatable, and must have 
given up the ghost in despair. 

Mr. Swiveller being often left alone in the office of 
Mr. Brass, began to find the time hang heavy on his 
hands. For the better preservation of his cheerfulness 
therefore, and to prevent his faculties from rusting, he 
provided himself with a pack of cards and accustomed 
himself to play with a dummy, for twenty, thirty, and 
sometimes a hundred thousand pounds a side, besides 
many other hazardous bets to a considerable amount. 

As these games were very silently conducted, not- 
withstanding the magnitude of the interests involved, 
Mr. Swiveller began to think that on those evenings when 
Mr. and Miss Brass were out (and they often went out 
now) he heard a kind of snorting or hard-breathing sound 
in the direction of the door, which it occurred to him, 
after some reflection , must proceed from the small ser- 
vant, who always had a cold from damp living. Looking 
intently that way one night, he plainly distinguished an 
eye gleaming and glistening at the key-hole; and having 
now no doubt that his suspicions were correct, he stole 
softly to the door, and pounced upon her before she was 
aware of his approach. 

"Oh ! I didn't mean any harm indeed. Upon my 
word I didn't. Please don't tell upon me; please don't." 

" Tell upon you ! Do you mean to say you were look- 
ing through the key-hole for company?" 

" Imph-m, upon my word I was." 

" How long have you been cooling your eye there? " 

"Ever since you began to play them cards, and long 
before." 

"Well, come in. Sit down." 



DICK SWIVELLER AND THE MARCHIONESS. 61 

"Oh ! I dursn't, Miss Sally 'ud kill me, if she know'd 
I came up here." 

" Have you got a fire down-stairs? " 

14 Imph-m, a very little one." 

44 Miss Sally couldn't kill me if she know'd I went 
down there, so I'll come. Why how thin you are ! What 
do you mean by it? " 

"Oh! itan'tmy fault." 

"Could you eat any bread and meat? 

"Oh yes!" 

44 Ah ! I thought so. How old are you ! " 

"I don't know." 

Bidding the child mind the door until he came back, 
he vanished straightway. 

Presently he returned, followed by the boy from the 
public-house, who bore in one hand a plate of bread and 
beef,and in the other a great pot, filled with some very 
fragrant compound, which sent forth a grateful steam, 
and was indeed choice purl. Relieving the boy of his 
burden at the door, and charging his little companion to 
fasten it to prevent surprise, Mr. Swiveller followed her 
into the kitchen. 

44 There ! " said Richard, putting the plate before her. 
44 First of all, clear that off, and then you'll see what's 
next." 

The small servant needed no second bidding, and the 
plate was soon empty. 

44 Next," said Dick, handing the purl, " take a pull at 
that; but moderate your transports, you know, for you're 
not used to it. Well, is it good ? " 

"Oh! yes!" 

" Now," said Mr. Swiveller, putting two sixpences 
into a saucer, and trimming the wretched candle, when the 
cards had been cut and dealt, " those are the stakes. If 
you win, you get 'em all. If I win, I get 'em. To make 
it seem more real and pleasant, I shall call you the Mar- 
chioness, do you hear? " 

" Imph-m." 

"Then Marchioness, fire away." 

Mr. Swiveller and his partner played several games 
with varying success, until the loss of three sixpences, 



62 scorer's successful recitations. 

the gradual sinking of the purl, and the striking of ten 
o'clock, combined to render that gentleman mindful of 
the flight of Time, and the expediency of withdrawing 
before Mr. Sampson and Miss Sally Brass returned. 

" With which object in view, Marchioness, I shall ask 
your ladyship's permission to put the cards in my pocket, 
and to retire from the presence when I have finished this 
tankard; merely observing Marchioness, that since life 
like a river is flowing, I care not how fast it rolls on, 
ma'am, on, while such purl on the bank still is growing, 
and such eyes light the waves as they run. Marchioness, 
your health. You will excuse my wearing my hat, but 
the palace is damp, and the marble floor is — if I may be 
allowed the expression — sloppy." 

" The Baron Sampsono de Brasso and his fair sister 
are (you tell me) at the play ? " 

"Imph-m." 

" Ha ! 'Tis well, Marchioness ! — but no matter. Some 
wine there. Ho!" 

" Do they often go where glory waits 'em, and leave 
you here ? ' ' 

"Imph-m; I believe they do. Miss Sally's such a 
one-er for that, she is." 

" Such a what?" 

"Such a one-er." 

" Is Mr. Brass a wunner? " 

" Not half what Miss Sally is, he isn't. Bless you 
he'd never do anything without her." 

"Oh ! He wouldn't, wouldn't he?" 

" Miss Sally keeps him in such order, he always asks 
her advice, he does ; and catches it sometimes. Bless you, 
you wouldn't believe how much he catches it." 

" I suppose they consult together a good deal, and 
talk about a great many people— -about me for instance, 
eh, Marchioness?" 

" Imph-m." 

"Complimentary? " 

"No." 

"Humph! Would it be any breach of confidence, 
Marchioness, to relate what they say of the humble indi- 
vidual who has now the honor to—" 



DICK SWIVELLER AND THE MARCHIONESS. 63 

" Miss Sally says you're a funny chap." 

" Well, Marchioness, that's not uncomplimentary. 
Merriment, Marchioness, is not a bad or degrading qual- 
ity. Old King Cole was himself a merry old soul, and a 
merry old soul was he, if we maj r put any faith in the 
pages of history." 

" But she says that you an't to be trusted." 

"Oh, really Marchioness, several ladies and gentle- 
men — not exactly professional persons, but tradespeople, 
ma'am, tradespeople — have made the same remark. The 
obscure citizen who keeps the hotel over the way, in- 
clined strongly to that opinion to-night when I ordered 
him to prepare the banquet. It's a popular prejudice, 
Marchioness; and yet I am sure I don't know why, 
for I have been trusted in my time to a considerable 
amount, and I can safely say that I never forsook my 
trust until it first deserted me — never. Mr. Brass is of 
the same opinion, I suppose?" 

"Imph-m. But don't you ever tell upon me, or I 
shall be beat to death." 

"Marchioness, the word of a gentleman is as good as 
his bond — sometimes better ; as in the present case, where 
his bond might prove but a doubtful sort of security. I 
am your friend, and hope we shall play more games to- 
gether. But, Marchioness, it occurs to me that you must 
be in the constant habit of airing your eye at kej^-holes, to 
know all this." 

" I only wanted to know where the key of the safe 
was hid; that was all; and I wouldn't have taken much, 
if I had found it nuther — only enough to squench my 
hunger." 

" You didn't find it then ? " Of course you didn't, or 
you'd be plumper. Good night, Marchioness. Fare thee 
well, and if forever, then forever fare thee well. 

CHARLES DICKENS. 



Irishman and Donkey. — Two Irishmen were one day 
passing along a country road, when they were startled by 
a wierd noise that came from behind a stone wall. They 
looked at each other for a moment, then one of them ex- 
claimed : "Who-o-o-do yez moind that? It's a fine ear 
the bird has for music, but he's got a wonderful cowld." 



64 scorer's successful recitations. 

FITZ-JAMES AND RODERICK DHU. 

(FROM "THE LADY OF THE LAKE." ) 

At length they came where, stern and steep, 
The hill sinks down upon the deep. 
Here Vennachar in silver flows, 
There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose ; 
Ever the hollow path twined on 
Beneath steep bank and threatening stone ; 
An hundred men might hold the post 
With hardihood against an host. 

So toilsome was the road to trace, 

The guide, abating of his pace, 

Led slowly through the pass's jaws, 

And ask'd Fitz- James, by what strange cause 

He sought these wilds? traversed by few, 

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. 

C 'A warrior thou, and ask me why ! 

Moves our free course by such fix'd cause, 

As gives the poor mechanic laws? 

Enough, I am by promise tied 

To match me with this man of pride : 

Twice have I sought Clan-Alpine's glen 

In peace ; but when I come again, 

1 come with banner, brand, and bow, 

As leader seeks his mortal foe. 

For love-lorn swain, in lady's bower, 

Ne'er panted for the appointed hour, 

As I, until before me stand 

This rebel Chieftain and his band." 

" Have, then, thy wish ! " He whistled shril!, 
And he was answered from the hill ; 
Wild as the scream of the curlieu, 
From crag to crag the signal flew. 
Instant, through the copse and heath, arose 
Bonnets and spears and bended bows ; 



FITZ-JAMES AND RODERICK DHU. G5 

On right, on left, above, below, 

Sprung up at once the lurking foe ; 

From shingles gray their lances start, 

The bracken-bush sends forth the dart, 

The rushes and the willow-wand 

Are bristling into axe and brand, 

And every tuft of broom gives life 

To plaided warrior arm'd for strife. 

That whistle garrison'd the glen 

At once with full five hundred men 

As if the yawning hill to heaven 

A subterranean host had given. 

Watching their leader's beck and will, 

All silent there they stood, and still. 

Like the loose crags whose threatening mass 

Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, 

As if an infant's touch could urge 

Their headlong passage down the verge, 

With step and weapon forward flung, 

Upon the mountain-side they hung. 

The mountaineer cast glance of pride 

Along Benledi's living side, 

Then fix'd his eye and sable brow 

Full on Fitz-James : " How say'st thou now ? 

These are Clan- Alpine's warriors true ; 

And, Saxon,— I am Eoderick Dhu ! " 

Fitz-James was brave : — though to his heart 
The life-blood thrill'd with sudden start, 
He mann'd himself with dauntless air, 
Returned the Chief his haughty stare, 
His back against a rock he bore, 
And firmly placed his foot before : 
"Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly 
From its firm base as soon as I." 
Sir Roderick mark'd — and in his eyes 
Respect was mingled with surprise, 
And the stern joy which warriors feel 
In foemen worthy of their steel. 
Short space he stood— then waved his hand : 
Down sunk the disappearing band ; 



66 scorer's successful recitations. 

Each warrior vanished where he stood, 
In broom or bracken, heath or wood ; 
Sunk brand and spear and bended bow, 
In osiers pale and copses low ; 
It seemed as if their mother Earth 
Had swallow 'd up her warlike birth. 

Fitz-James looked round — yet scarce believed 

The witness that his sight received ; 

Such apparition well might seem 

Delusion of a dreadful dream. 

Sir Koderick in suspense he eyed. 

And to his look the Chief replied, 

" Fear nought — nay, that I need not say — 

But — doubt not aught from mine array. 

Thou art my guest; I pledged my word 

As far as Coilantogle ford : 

Nor would I call a clansman's brand 

For aid against one valiant hand, 

Though on our strife lay every vale 

Kent by the Saxon from the Gael. 

So move we on ; I only meant 

To show the reed on which you leant, 

Deeming this path you might pursue 

Without a pass from Roderick Dim." — 

The Chief in silence strode before, 

And reached the torrent's sounding shore, 

And here his course the Chieftain staid. 

Threw down his target and his plaid, 

And to the Lowland warrior said : — 

" Bold Saxon ! to his promise just, 

Vich-Alpine has discharged his trust. 

This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, 

This head of a rebellious clan, 

Hath led thee safe through watch and ward, 

Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. 

Now, man to man, and steel to steel, 

A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. 

See, here all vantageless I stand, 






FITZ-JAMES AND RODERICK DHU. 67 

Armed, like thyself, with single brand; 

For this is Coilantogle ford, 

And thou must keep thee with thy sword. " 

The Saxon paused : " I ne'er delayed, 

When foeman bade me draw my blade ; 

Nay, more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death : 

Tet sure thy fair and generous faith, 

And my deep debt for life preserved, 

A better meed have well deserved : 

Can nought but blood our feud atone? 

Are there no means? " "No, Stranger, none ! 

And here — to fire thy flagging zeal — 

The Saxon cause rests on thy steel ; 

For thus spoke Fate by prophet bred 

Between the living and the dead : 

4 Who spills the foremost foeman's life, 

His party conquers in the strife.' " 

" Then by my word," the Saxon said, 
" The riddle is already read : 
Seek yonder brake, beneath the cliff, 
There lies Red Murdock, stark and stiff; 
Thus Fate hath solved her prophecy, 
Then yield to Fate, and not to me." 



Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye- 
"" Soars thy presumption then so high, 
Because a wretched kern ye slew, 
Homage to name to Roderick Dhu? 
He yields not, he, to man nor Fate ! 
Thou add'st but fuel to my hate : 
My clansman's blood demands revenge, — 
Not yet prepared ? By Heaven, I change 
My thought, and hold thy valor light 
As that of some vain carpet-knight, 
Who ill deserved my courteous care, 
And whose best boast is but to wear 
A braid of his fair lady's hair." 



68 scorer's SUCCESSFUL RECITATIONS. 

" I thank thee, Koderick, for the word ! 
It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; 
For I have sworn this braid to stain 
In the best blood that warms thy vein. 
Now, truce, farewell ! and, ruth, begone! " 

Then each at once his falchion drew, 
Each on the ground his scabbard threw, 
Each looked to sun, and stream, and plain, 
As what they ne'er might see again : 
Then foot, and point, and eye opposed, 
In dubious strife they darkly closed. 
Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu, 
That on the field his targe he threw, 
Whose brazen studs and tough bull hide 
Had death so often dash'd aside ; 
For trained abroad his arms to wield, 
Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. 
He practised every pass and ward, 
To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard, 
While less expert, though stronger far, 
The Gael maintained unequal war. 
Three times in closing strife they stood, 
And thrice the Saxon's blade drank blood; 
No stinted draught, no scanty tide, 
The gushing flood the tartans dyed. 
Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain, 
And showered his blows like wintry rain ; 
And as firm as rock, or castle roof, 
Against the winter shower is proof, 
The foe, invulnerable still, 
Foiled his wild rage by steady skill, 
Till at advantage ta'en, his brand 
Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand ; 
And, backward borne upon the lea, 
Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. 
" Now, yield thee, or, by him who made 
The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade ! 

" Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy ! 

Let recreant yield, who fears to die." — 



\ 

AGNES I LOVE THEE. 69 



Like mountain-cat who guards her young, 
Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung; 
Keceived, but recked not of a wound, 
And locked his arms his foeman round. 
They tug, they strain ! — down, down they go, 
The Gael above, Fitz-James below. 
The Chieftain's gripe his throat compressed, 
His knee was planted in his breast ; 
His clotted locks he backward threw, 
Across his brow his hand he drew, 
From blood and mist to clear his sight, 
Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright ! 

* * * •* * 

* * * * * 

* * * * * 

For, while the dagger gleamed on high, 
.Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye. 
Down came the blow ! but in the heath 
The erring blade found bloodless sheath. 
Un wounded from the dreadful close, 
But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. 

SIR WALTER SCOTT. 



AGNES I LOVE THEE. 

I stood upon the ocean's briny shore, 

And with a fragile reed I traced upon the sand : 

" Agnes I love thee." 
The mad waves rolled by and blotted out the fair im- 
pression. 
Frail reed ! Cruel wave ! Treacherous sand ! 

I'll trust thee no more ; 

But with a giant hand 
I'll pluck from Norway's frozen shore, her tallest pine, 
And dip its top into the crater of Mt. Vesuvius, 
And on the high and burnished heavens I'll write : 

"Agnes I love thee." 
And I would like to see any doggoned wave wash that out, 



70 scorer's successful recitations, 



THE LITTLE CRIPPLE. 

"I 'm thist a little crippled boy, an' never goin' to grow 
An' git a great big man at all ! — 'cause Aunty told me so. 
When I was thist a baby onc't I failed out of the bed 
An' got i The Curv'ture of the Spine ' — 'at 's what the- 

Doctor said. 
I never had no Mother nen — fer my Pa runned away 
An' dass n't come back here no more — 'cause he was 

drunk one day 
An' stobbed a man in thish-ere town, an' could n't pay 

his fine ! 
An' nen my Ma she died — an' I got 'Curv'ture of the 

Spine!" 

" I 'm nine years old ! An' you can 't guess how much I 

weigh, I bet! — 
Last birthday I weighed thirty-three! — An' I weigh 

thirty yet! 
I 'm awful little fer my size— I 'm purt' nigh littler 'an 
Some babies is! — an' neighbors all calls me 'The Little 

Man ! ' 
An' Doc one time he laughed an' said: ' I 'spect, first 

thing you know, 
You '11 have a little spike-tail coat an' travel with a 

show ! ' 
An' nen I laughed — till I looked roun an' Aunty was 

a-cryin' — 
Sometimes she acts like that, 'cause I got 'Curv'ture of 

the Spine!" 

"I set — while Aunty 's washin' — on my little long-leg 

stool , 
An watch the little boys an' girls 'a-skippin' by to 

school ; 
An' I peck on the winder, an' holler out an say : 
'Who wants to fight The Little Man 'at dares you all 

to day ? ' 
An' nen the boys climbs on the fence, an' little girls. 

peeks through, 



THE LITTLE CRIPPLE. 71 

An' they all says : 'Cause you 're so big, you think we 

're 'feared o' you ? ' 
An' nen they yell, an' shake their fist at me, like I shake 

mine — 
They 're thist m fun, you know, 'cause I got 'Curv'ture 

of the Spine! ' " 

"At evening, when the ironin' 's done, an' Aunty 's fixed 

the fire, 
An' filled an' lit the lamp, an' trimmed the wick an' 

turned it higher, 
An' fetched the wood all in fer night, an' locked the 

kitchen door, 
An' stuffed the ole crack where the wind blows in up 

through the floor — 
She sets the kittle on the coals, an' biles an' makes the 

tea, 
An' fries the liver an' the mush, an' cooks a egg fer me ; 
An' sometimes — when I cough so hard — her elderberry 

wine 
Don't go so bad fer little boys with 'Curvture of the 

Spinel' " 

" But Aunty 's all so childish-like on my account, you see, 
I 'm 'most afeared she '11 be took down — an' 'at 's what 

bothers me! — 
'Cause ef my good ole Aunty ever would git sick an' die, 
I don't know what she 'do in Heaven — till 1 come, by 

an' by : — 
Fer she 's so ust to all my ways, an' ever 'thing, you 

know, 
An' no one there like me, to nurse, an' worry over so ! — 
'Cause all the little childerns there 's so straight an' 

strong an' fine, 
They 's nary angel 'bout the place with 'Curv'ture of 

the Spine!' " 

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY. 



Conundrum. — Why is a baby like a sheaf of wheat? 
— First it is cradled, then thrashed, and afterwards be- 
comes the flower of the family. 



72 scorer's successful recitations. 

THE DOOM OF CLAUDIUS AND CYNTHIA. 

( Abridged for Publie Reading, from Scribner's Monthly. ) 

It was the mid-splendor of the reign of the Emperor 
Commodus. Especially desirous of being accounted the 
best swordsman and the most fearless gladiator in Rome, 
lie still better enjoyed the reputation of being the incompar- 
able archer. With a view to this, he had assiduously 
trained himself so as to be able, in various public places, to 
give startling exhibitions of his skill with the bow and 
arrows. No archer had been able to compete with him. 
This being true, it can be well understood how Claudius, by 
publicly boasting that he was a better archer than Commo- 
dus, had brought upon himself the calamity of a public ex- 
ecution, Claudius and his bride had been arrested together 
at their nuptial feast and dragged to separate dungeons to 
await the emperor's will. 

The rumor was abroad in Rome that on a certain night 
a most startling scene would be enacted in the Circus. 
That the sight would be blood-curdling in the last degree 
was taken by every one for granted. Emissaries of Com- 
modus had industriously sown about the streets hints too 
vague to take definite form, calculated to arouse great inter- 
est. The result was that on the night in question, the vast 
building was crowded at an early hour. (It will be remem- 
bered that the Ampitheatre of Rome had a seating capacity 
of more than eighty thousand.) All the seats were filled 
with people eager to witness some harrowing scene of 
death. Commodus himself, surrounded by a great number 
of his favorites, sat on a high richly cushioned throne pre- 
pared for him about midway one side of the vast inclosure. 
All was still, as if the multitude were breathless with ex- 
pectancy. Presently, out from one of the openings a young 
man and a young woman, — a mere girl, — their hands bound 
behind them, were led forth upon the sand of the arena and 
forced to walk around the entire circumference of the 
place. 

The youth was tall and nobly beautiful, a very Her- 
cules in form, an Apollo in grace and charm of movement. 
The girl was petite and lovely beyond compare. His hair 



THE DOOM OF CLAUDIUS AND CYNTHIA. 73 

was blue-black and crisp, and a young, soft beard curled 
over bis cbeeks and lips. Her liair was pure gold, falling to 
her feet and trailing behind her as she walked. His eyes 
were dark and proud, hers gray and deep as those of a god- 
dess. Both were nude, excepting a short kirtle reaching to 
near the knee. They seemed to move half unconscious of 
their surroundings, all bewildered and dazzled by the 
situation. 

At length the giant circuit was completed and the two 
were left standing on the sand, distant about one hundred 
and twenty feet from the emperor, who now arose and in a 
loud voice said : 

" Behold the condemned Claudius, and Cynthia, whom 
he lately took for his wife. They are condemned to death 
for the great folly of Claudius, that the Roman people 
may know that Commodus reigns supreme. The crime 
for which they are to die is a great one. Claudius has 
publicly proclaimed that he is a better archer than I, 
Commodus, am. I am the emperor and the incomparable 
archer of Rome. Whoever disputes it dies and his wife 
dies with him." 

It was enough to touch the heart of even a Roman to 
see the tender innocence of that fair girl's face as she 
turned it up in speechless, tearless, appealing grief and 
anguish to her husband's. Her pure bosom heaved and 
quivered with the awful terror suddenly generated with- 
in . The youth, erect and powerful, set his thin lips 
firmly and kept his eyes looking straight out before him. 
Among the on-lookers many knew him as a trained 
athlete, and especially as an almost unerring archer. 
They knew him too as a brave soldier, a true friend, an 
honorable citizen. Little time remained for such reflec- 
tions as naturally might have arisen, for immediately a 
large cage, containing two fiery-eyed and famished 
tigers, was brought into the Circus and placed before the 
victims. The hungry beasts were excited to madness by 
the smell of fresh blood smeared on the bars of the cage 
for that purpose. They howled and growled, lapping 
their fiery tongues and plunging against the door. 

The poor girl laid her head upon the breast of her 
husband and uttered a thin, short wail. The mighty 



74 



muscles of his arms rolled up and quivered as he strained 
at the thongs in his efforts to burst them, for he was be- 
ginning to realize that death was near him, and ah ! near 
her. If only his hands were free and his good sword 
within reach, how gladly would he battle for her against 
all the tigers in the world ! But this certain death ! 
How could he endure it ! Those blood-thirsty beasts to- 
munch her tender body and delicate limbs, her true heart 
to quiver in their fangs. Oh ! how supremely bitter a 
thing to helplessly contemplate ! While she, the tender 
lily by his side, thought only of him, as the man who 
kept the beasts began from his safe position on the high 
cage to unfasten the door and thus let loose death. Four 
long bounds of those agile monsters would bear them to 
their victims. Slowly the bolts were withdrawn and the 
huge doors swung round. Now, nothing but thin air re- 
mained between the blood-thirsty beasts and the nude 
defenseless bodies. For some moments the tigers did not 
move, except as it were to writhe crouchingly backward 
as if shrinking from the devilish deed they were about to 
perform. 

The limbs of the poor girl had begun to give way 
under her and she was slowly sinking to the ground. 
This seemed greatly to affect the man, who tried to sup- 
port her with his body. Despite his efforts she slid down 
and lay in a helpless heap at his feet. The lines on his 
manly face deepened and a slight ashy pallor flickered on 
brow and eyelids. But he did not tremble. He stood 
like a statue of Hercules. 

Then a sound came from the cage which no words can 
ever describe, — the hungry howl, the clashing teeth, the 
hissing breath of the tigers along with a sharp clang of 
the iron bars spurned by their rushing feet. The Circus 
fairly shook with the plunge of Death toward its victims. 

Suddenly in this last moment, the maiden, by a great 
effort writhed to her feet and covered the youth's body 
with her own. Such love ! It should have sweetened 
death for that young man. How white his face grows ! 
How his eyes flame, immovably flxed upon the coming 
demons ! 

Now, look at the bounding, flaming-eyed tigers! See I 



THE DOOM OF CLAUDIUS AND CYNTHIA. 75- 

how one leads the other in the awful race to the feast ! 
The girl is nearer than the man. She will feel the claws 
and fangs first. See how wide those red, frothy mouths 
gape ! How the red tongues loll and the sand flies up in 
a cloud from their armed feet. 

Then there came from the place where Commoclus 
stood, a clear musical note such as might have come from 
the gravest cord of a lyre if powerfully stricken, closely 
followed by a keen, far-reaching h-i-ss, like the whisper of 
Fate, ending in a heavy blow. The foremost tiger, while 
yet in mid-air, curled itself up with a gurgling, cry of 
utter pain, fell heavily down dying. Again the sweet, 
insinuating twang, the hiss and the stroke. The second 
beast fell dead or dying upon the first. This explained 
all. The emperor had demonstrated his right to be called 
the Royal Bowman of the world. 

A soldier as directed, now approached the twain, and, 
seizing an arm of each, led them some paces farther 
away, where he stationed them facing each other and 
with their sides to Commodus, who was preparing to 
shoot again. Before drawing his bow, however, he cried 
aloud : 

" Behold ! Commodus will pierce the center of the ear 
of each ! " 

Commodus drew his bow with tremendous power, 
fetching the cord back to his breast, where for a moment 
it was held without the faintest quiver of a muscle. His 
eyes were fixed, and cold as steel. The polished broad 
head of the arrow shone like a diamond. 

While yet the pink flush burned on the delicate ear 
of the girl, and the hush of the Circus deepened infin- 
itely, out rang the low note of the great weapon's recoil. 
The arrow fairly shrieked through the air, so swift was 
its flight. 

What a surg the youth made ! It was as if Death had 
charged him with omnipotence for the second. The 
cord leaped from his wrists — he clasped the falling girl 
in his embrace. All eyes saw the arrow hurtling along 
the sand, after its mission was done. 

Locked for one brief moment in each other's arms,, 
the quivering victims wavered on their feet, then sank. 



76 scorer's successful recitations. 

down upon the ground. Commodus stood like Fate, lean- 
ing forward to note the perfectness of his execution. His 
eyes blazed with the eager, heartless fire of triumph. 

The two tigers lay in their blood where they had 
fallen, each with a broad-headed arrow through the spinal 
cord, at the point of its juncture with the brain. The 
emperor's aim had been absolutely accurate. Instant 
paralysis and quick death had followed his shots. 

But the crowning event of the occasion was revealed 
at the last. 

Pale and wild-eyed, their faces pinched and shriveled, 
the youth and the maid started, with the painful totter- 
ings and weak clutchings at the air, and writhed to their 
feet, where they stood staring at each other in a way to chill 
the blood of any observer. Then, as if attracted by some 
irresistible fascination, they turned their mute, sunken faces 
toward Commodus. What a look ! Why did it not freeze 
him dead where he stood? 

" Lead them out and set them free ! " cried the em- 
peror, in a loud, heartless voice. u Lead them out, and 
tell it everywhere that Commodus is the Incomparable 
Bowman." 

And then, when all at once it was discovered that he 
had not hurt the lovers, but had merely cut in two with his 
arrows the cords that bound their wrists, the vast audi- 
ence arose as one person and applauded the emperor ! 

MAURICE THOMPSON. 



THE SUBLIME AND THE RIDICULOUS. 

Every one views a subject according to his particu- 
lar taste and disposition ■ 

To view Niagara Falls one day 

A priest and tailor took their way. 

The parson cried, while wrapped in wonder. 

And listening to the cataract's thunder : 

" Lord ! how thy works amaze our eyes, 

And fill our hearts with vast surprise." 

The tailor merely made this note : 

" Lord ! what a place to sponge a coat." 



HYMN TO MOUNT BLANC. 77 

HYMX TO MOUNT BLAXC. 

Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star 
In his steep course? so long he seems to pause 
On thy bald, awful head, O sovereign Blanc ! 
The Arve and Arveiron at thy base 
Have ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful Form ! 
Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, 
How silently ! Around thee and above 
Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black — 
An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it, 
As with a wedge ! But when I look again, 
It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, 
Thy habitation from eternity ! 

dread and silent Mount ! I gazed upon thee, 
Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, 

Did'st vanish from my thought : entranced in prayer, 

1 worshiped the Invisible alone. 



Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, 
So sweet we know not we are listening to it, 
Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my thought — 
Yea, with my life and life's own secret joy : 
Till the dilating Soul, enrapt, transfused, 
Into the mighty vision passing, there, 
As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven ! 



Awake, my soul ! not only passive praise 
Thou owest ! not alone these swelling tears, 
Mute thanks, and secret ecstasy ! Awake, 
Voice of sweet song ! Awake, my heart, awake ! 
Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my Hymn. 



Thou first and chief, sole Sovereign of the Vale ! 
O, struggling with the darkness all the night, 
And visited all night by troops of stars, 
Or when they elimb the sky or when they sink : 
Companion of the morning-star at dawn, 



78 scorer's successful recitations. 

Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn 
€o-herald : wake, O wake, and utter praise ! 
Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth ? 
Who filled thy countenance with rosy light? 
Who made thee parent of perpetual streams? 

And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad ! 
Who called you forth from night and utter death, 
From dark and icy caverns called you forth, 
Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks, 
Forever shattered and the same for ever? 
Who gave you your invulnerable life, 
Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy, 
Unceasing thunder and eternal foam ? 
And who commanded (and the silence came), 
Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest? 

Ye ice-falls ! ye that from the mountain's brow 
Adown enormous ravines slope amain — 
Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, 
And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge ! 
Motionless torrents ! silent cataracts ! 
Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven 
Beneath the keen full moon ? Who bade the sun 
Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers 
Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? — 
God ! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, 
Answer ! and let the ice-plains echo, God ! 
God! sing, ye meadow-streams, with gladsome voice! 
Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds! 
And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow, 
And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God ! 



Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost! 
Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest! 
Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain-storm! 
Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds! 
Ye signs and wonders of the elements ! 
Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise ! 



OLD SAYINGS. 79 

Thou too, hoar Mount ! with thy sky-pointing peaks, 

Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard, 

Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene, 

Into the depth of clouds that veil thy breast — 

Thou too again, stupendous Mountain ! thou 

That as I raise my head, awhile bowed low 

In adoration, upward from thy base 

Slow traveling with dim eyes suffused with tears, 

Solemnly seemest, like a vapory cloud, 

To rise before me — Rise, O ever rise ! 

Rise like a cloud of incense, from the earth ! 

Thou kingly Spirit throned among the hills, 

Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven, 

Great Hierarch ! tell thou the silent sky, 

And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun, 

Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God. 

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 



OLD SAYIXGS. 



As poor as a church mouse, as thin as a rail ; 
As fat as a porpoise, as rough as a gale ; 
As brave as a lion, as spry as a cat ; 
As bright as a sixpence, as weak as a rat. 

As proud as a peacock, as sly as a fox; 
As mad as a March hare, as strong as an ox ; 
As fair as a lily, as empty as air ; 
As rich as Croesus, as cross as a bear. 

As pure as an angel, as neat as a pin ; 
As smart as a steel-trap, as ugly as sin ; 
As dead as a door nail, as white as a sheet ; 
As flat as a pan-cake, as red as a beet. 

As round as an apple, as black as your hat ; 
As brown as a berry, as blind as a bat ; 
As mean as a miser, as full as a tick ; 
As plump as a partridge, as sharp as a stick. 



80 scorer's successful recitations. 

As clean as a penny, as dark as a pall ; 
As hard as a mill-stone, as bitter as gall ; 
As fine as a fiddle, as clear as a bell ; 
As dry as a herring, as deep a well. 



As light as a feather, as firm as a rock ; 
As stiff as a poker, as calm as a clock ; 
As green as a gosling, as brisk as a bee ; 
And now let me stop, lest you weary of me. 



TOO LATE FOR THE TRAIN. 

When they reached the station, Mr, Mann and his wife 
gazed in unspeakable disappointment at the receding train, 
which was just pulling away from the bridge switch at the 
rate of a mile a minute. Their first impulse was to run after 
it, but as the train was out of sight and whistling lor Sage- 
town before they could act upon the impulse, they remained 
in the carriage and disconsolately turned their horses' heads 
homeward. 

Mr. Mann broke the silence, very grimly: "This all 
comes of having to wait for a woman to get ready," 

" Why, I was ready before you were." 

"Great heavens," cried Mr. Mann, nearly jerking the 
horses' jaws out of place, "just listen to that ! And I sat in 
the buggy ten minutes yelling at you to come along until 
the whole neighborhood heard me." 

"Yes, and every time I started downstairs you sent me 
back for something you had forgotten." 

"O-h! This is too much to bear, when everybody 
knows that if I were going to Europe I would just rush into 
the house, put on a clean shirt, grab up my grip sack, and 
fly, while you would want at least six months for prelimin- 
ary preparations, and then dawdle around the whole day of 
starting until every train had left town." 

Well, the upshot of the matter was that the Manns put 
off their visit to Aurora until the next week, and it was 
agreed that each one should get himself or herself ready 



TOO LATE FOR THE TRAIN. 81 

and go down to the train and go, and the one who failed to 
get ready should be left. The day of the match came 
around in due time. The train was going at 10:30, and 
Mr. Mann, after attending to his business, went home at 
9:45. 

" Xow, then," he shouted, " only three-quarters of an 
hour's time. Fly around ; a fair field and no favors, you 
know." 

And away they flew. Mr. Mann rushed into this 
room and flew through that one, and dived into one closet 
after another with inconceivable rapidity, chuckling 
under his breath all the time to think how cheap Mrs. 
Mann would feel when he started off alone. He stopped 
on his way up stairs to pull off his heavy boots to 
save time. For the same reason he pulled off his coat as 
he ran through the dining room and hung it on a cor- 
ner of the silver closet. Then he jerked oft* his vest as he 
rushed through the hall and tossed it on the hat-rack, and 
by the time he had reached his own room he was ready to 
plunge into his clean clothes. He pulled out a bureau 
drawer and began to paw at the things like a Scotch ter- 
rier after a rat. 

"Eleanor, where are my shirts? " 

"In your bureau drawer," calmly replied Mrs. Mann, 
who was standing before a glass calmly and deliberately 
coaxing a refractory crimp into place. 

" Well, but they ain't ! I've emptied everything out of 
the drawer, and there isn't a thing I ever saw before." 

Mrs. Mann steps back a few paces, holds her head on one 
side, and after satisfying herself that the crimp will do, replied : 
"Those things scattered around on the floor are all mine. 
You haven't been looking into your own drawer." 

" I don't see why you couldn't have put my things 
out for me when you had nothing else to do all the 
morning." 

"Because," said Mrs. Mann, setting herself into an 
additional article of raiment with awful deliberation, 
" nobody put mine out for me. A fair field and no favors, 
my dear." 

Mr. Mann plunged into his shirt like a mad bull at a 
red flag. 



82 scorer's successful recitations. 

" Foul ! No buttons on this shirt-neck ! " 

" Because," said Mrs. Mann, after a deliberate stare 
at the fidgeting, impatient man, during which she but- 
toned her dress and put eleven pins where they would do 
the most good, " because you have the shirt on wrong 
side out." 

When Mr. Mann slid out of the shirt he began to 
sweat. He dropped it three times before he got it on. 
While it was over his head he heard the clock strike ten, 
and when his head came through he saw Mrs. Mann coax- 
ing the ends and bows of her necktie. 

" Where are my shirt studs?" he cried. 

Mrs. Mann went out into another room and presently 
came back with gloves and hat, and saw Mr. Mann empty- 
ing all the boxes he could find in and around the bureau. 
Then she said, " In the shirt you just pulled off." 

Mrs. Mann put on her gloves and buttoned them, 
while Mr. Mann hunted up and down the room for his 
cuff-buttons. 

" Eleanor, I believe you must know where those cuff- 
buttons are." 

"I haven't seen them. Oh! didn't you lay them 
down on the window-sill in the sitting-room last night?" 

Mr. Mann remembered, and started down stairs on 
the run. He stepped on one of his boots at the head of 
the stairs and was immediately landed in the hall at the 
foot of the stairs with neatness and dispatch. 

"Are you nearly ready, Algernon!" sweetly asked 
the wife of his bosom, leaning over the banisters. 

(The unhappy man groaned.) "Can't you throw me 
down the other boot ? " 

Mrs. Mann, pityingly, kicked it down to him. 

"My valise?" he inquired, as he tugged at the boot 
strap. 

" Up in your dressing-room." 

"Packed?" 

" I do not know; not unless you packed it yourself," 
she replied, with her hand on the door knob: " I had 
barely time to pack my own. Good-bye, dear, good-bye." 

She was passing out of the gate when the door 
opened, and he shouted, " Eleanor, where in the name of 



TOO LATE FOR THE TRAIN. 83 

goodness did you put my vest? It has all my money 
in it!" 

" You threw it on the hat rack. Good-bye, dear, 
good-bye ! ' ' 

Before she got to the street corner she was hailed 
again. 

" Eleanor! Eleanor! Eleanor Mann ! Did you wear 
off my coat?" 

She paused and turned, after signaling the street car 
to stop, and cried, " You threw it in the silver closet." 

The street car engulfed her graceful form and she was 
seen no more. But the neighbors say that they heard 
Mr. Mann charging up and down the house, rushing out 
of the front door every now and then, shrieking after the 
unconscious Mrs. Mann, to know where his hat was, and 
where she put the valise key, and that there wasn't a 
clean linen collar in the house. And when he went away 
at last, he left the kitchen door, the side door, the front 
door, all the down stairs windows and the front gate, 
wide open. 

The loungers around the station were somewhat 
amused, just as the train was pulling out of sight down 
in the yards, to see a flushed, enterprising man, with his 
hat on sideways, his vest unbuttoned, his necktie flying, 
and his grip sack flapping open and shut like a demented 
shutter on a March night, dash wildly across the platform 
and halt in the middle of the track, glaring in dejected, 
wrathful mortification at the departing train, and snaking 
his fist at a pretty woman who was throwing kisses at 
him from the rear platform of the last car. 



USTCLE PETE AXD THE BAIT. 

A darkey who was fishing had a little boy about two 
years old at his side, and as he threw the line into the 
water, the little chap fell in also. The old darkey 
plunged in and brought out the youngster, squeezed him 
out and stood him up to dry. A clergyman who came 
along happened to see him and said, " My man, you have 
done nobly, you are a hero, you have saved the boy's life." 
"Well," said the darkey, "I didn't do dat to sabe his life; 
he had de bait in his pocket." 



84 scorer's successful recitations. 

A SIMILAR CASE. 

Jack, I hear you've gone and done it. 

Yes, I know ; most fellows will ; 
Went and tried it onee myself, sir, 
Though, you see, I'm single still. 
And you met her — did you tell me ? 

Down at Newport, last July, 
And resolved to ask the question 
At a soiree? So did I. 

I suppose you left the ball-room 

With its music and its light; 
For they say love's flame is brightest 
In the darkness of the night. 

Well, you walked along together — 

Overhead the starlit sky, 
And I'll bet — old man, confess it — 
You were frightened. So was I. 

So you strolled along the terrace, 

Saw the summer moonlight pour 
All its radiance on the waters 
As they rippled on the shore ; 
Till at length you gathered courage, 

When you saw that none were nigh — 
Did you draw her close and tell her 
That you loved her ? So did I. 

Well, I needn't ask you further, 
And I'm sure I wish you joy ; 
Think I'll wander down to see you 
When you're married — eh, my boy ? 
When the honeymoon is over, 

And you'r settled down, we'll try — 
What? The deuce you say! Rejected,— So was I, 



A gentleman on being asked what made him so tall re- 
plied that " when he was a small boy he fell in hia 
mother's yeast jar and had been rising ever since." 



THE LAST HYMN. 85 

THE LAST HYMN. 



The Sabbath day was ending in a village by the sea, 
The uttered benediction touched the people tenderly, 
And they rose to face the sunset in the glowing, lighted 

West, 
And then hastened to their dwellings for God's blessed 

boon of rest. 



But they looked across the waters, and a storm was raging 
there ; 

A fierce spirit moved above them — the wild spirit of the 
air — 

And it lashed, and shook, and tore them till they thun- 
dered, groaned, and boomed, 

And, alas! for any vessel in their yawning gulfs en- 
tombed. 



Very anxious were the people on that rocky coast of 
Wales, 

Lest the dawns of coming morrows should be telling 
awful tales, 

When the sea had spent its passion and should cast upon 
the shore 

Bits of wreck, and swollen victims, as it had done hereto- 
fore. 



With the rough winds blowing round her a brave woman 

strained her eyes, 
As she saw along the billows a large vessel fall and rise. 
Oh ! it did not need a prophet to tell what the end must be. 
For no ship could ride in safety near that shore on such 

a sea. 



Then a pitying people hurried from their homes and 

thronged the beach. 
Oh, for power to cross the waters and the perishing to 

reach ! 



86 scorer's successful recitations. 

Helpless hands were wrung in terror, tender hearts grew 

cold with dread, 
And the ship urged by the tempest to the fatal rock-shore 

sped. 

"See! she's parted in the middle! Oh, the half of her 
goes down ! 

Oh, God have mercy! Is heaven far to seek for those 
who drown? " 

Lo ! when next the white, shocked faces looked with ter- 
ror on the sea, 

Only one last clinging figure on a spar was seen to be. 



Nearer to the trembling watchers came the wreck tossed 

by the wave, 
And the man still clung and floated, though no power on 

earth could save. 
"Could we send him a short message? Here's a trumpet, 

shout away!" 
'Twas the preacher's hand that took it, and he wondered 
what to say. 



Any memory of his sermon ? Firstly ? Secondly ? Ah, no. 
There was but one thing to utter in that awful hour of 

woe, 
So he shouted through the trumpet, " Look to Jesus ! Can 

you hear? " 
And "Aye, aye, sir ! " rang the answer o'er the waters 

faint and clear. 



Then they listened, "He is singing, ' Jesus lover of my 

soul,' " 
And the winds brought back the echo, "While the nearer 

waters roll." 
Strange indeed it was to hear him, " Till the storm of life 
, is past," 
Singing bravely o'er the waters, "Oh, receive my soul at 

last." 



hotspur's defence. 87 

He could have no other refuge, " Hangs my helpless soul 

on thee." 
" Leave, oh ! leave me not " — the singer dropped at last 

into the sea. 
And the watchers looking homeward, through their eyes 

by tears made dim, 
Said, " He passed to be with Jesus in the singing of that 

hymn." 

MARIANNE FARNINGHAM. 



HOTSPUR'S DEFENCE. 

This scene shows the character and fiery spirit of Hotspur. 

CHARACTERS : 

King Henry the Fourth. 
Thomas Percy, Earl of Worcester. 
Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland. 
Henry Percy, Suruamed Hotspur, his son 
Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March. 
Sir Walter Blunt, Friend to the King. 

K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and temperate, 
Unapt to stir at these indignities, 
And you have found me ; for, accordingly, 
You tread upon my patience : but, be sure, 
I will from henceforth rather be myself, 
Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition. 

Woi\ Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves 
The scourge of greatness to be used on it; 
And that same greatness too which our own hands 
Have holp to make so portly. 

K. Hen, Worcester, get thee gone, for I see danger 
And disobedience in thine eye : 
You were about to speak, my lord Northumberland. 

North. Yea, my good lord. 

Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded, 
Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, 
Were, as he says, not with such strength denied 
As is deliver'd to your majesty : 



88 scorer's successful recitations. 

Either envy therefore, or misprision 
Is guilty of this fault, and not my son. 

Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. 
But, I remember, when the fight was done, 
When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, 
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, 
Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd, 
Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new reap-d, 
Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home;* 
He was perfumed like a milliner; 
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held 
A pouncet-box, which ever and anon 
He gave his nose, and took't away again ; — 
Who, therewith angry, when it next came there, 
Took it in snuff: — and still he smiFd and talk'd ; 
And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, 
He call'd them — untaught knaves, unmannerly, 
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse 
Betwixt the wind and his nobility. 
With many holiday and lady terms 
He questioned me ; among the rest, demanded 
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf. 
I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, 
To be so pester -d with a popinjay, 
Out of my grief and my impatience, 
Answered neglectingly, I know not what; 
He should, or should not; — for he made me mad, 
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, 
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman, 
Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save the mark!) 
And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth 
Was parmaceti, for an inward bruise; 
And that it w r as a great pity, so it was, 
That villainous salt-petre should be digg'd 
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, 
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd 
So cowardly ; and, but for these vile guns, 
He would himself have been a soldier. 
This bald unjoin ted chat of his, my lord, 
I answer'd indirectly, as I said; 
And, I beseech you, let not his report 






89 



Come current for an accusation, 
Betwixt my love and your high majesty. 

Blunt. The circumstance considered, good my lord, 
Whatever Harry Percy then had said, 
To such a person and in such a place, 
At such a time, with all the rest re-told, 
May reasonably die, and never rise 
To do him wrong, or any way impeach 
What then he said, so he unsay it now. 

K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners, 
But with proviso, and exception, — 
That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight 
His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer; 
Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray 'd 
The lives of those that he did lead to fight 
Against the great magician, damn'd Glendower. 
Shall our coffers then 
Be emptied, to redeem a traitor home? 
Shall we buy treason ? and indent with fears, 
When they have lost and forfeited themselves? 
Xo, on the barren mountains let him starve; 
For I shall never hold that man my friend, 
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost 
To ransom home revolted Mortimer. 

Hot. Eevolted Mortimer ! 
He never did fall off, my sovereign liege, 
But by the chance of war ; — To prove that true, 
Xeeds no more but one tongue for all those wounds, 
Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took, 
When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank, 
In single opposition, hand to hand, 
He did confound the best part of an hour 
In changing hardiment with great Glendower. 
Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink, 
Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood ; 
Who then affrighted with their bloody looks, 
Ean fearfully among the trembling reeds, 
And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank 
Blood-stained with these valiant combatants. 
Xever did bare and rotten policy 
Colour her working with such deadly wounds; 



90 scorer's successful recitations. 

Nor never could the noble Mortimer 
Keceive so many, and all willingly : 
Then let him not be slander'd with revolt. 

K. Hen. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie 
him, 
He never did encounter with Glendower ; 
I tell thee, 

He durst as well have met the devil alone, 
As Owen Glendower for an enemy. 
Art not ashamed ? But, sirrah, henceforth 
Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer : 
Send me your prisoners with the speediest means 
Or you shall hear in such a kind from me 
As will displease you. — My lord Northumberland, 
We license your departure with your son : 
Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it. 

[Exeunt King Henry, Blunt, 

Hot. And if the devil come and roar for them, 
I will not send them : — I will after straight, 
And tell him so; for I will ease my heart, 
Although it be with hazard of my head. 

North. What, drunk with choler? stay,*and pause 
a while; 
Here comes your uncle. 

Re-enter Worcester. 

Hot. Speak of Mortimer ? 

Zounds, I will speak of him ; and let my soul 
Want mercy, if I do not join with him : 
Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins, 
And shed my dear blood drop by drop i'the dust, 
But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer 
As high i'the air as this unthankful king, 
As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke. 

Wor. Who struck this heat up, after I was gone? 

Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners; 
And when I urg'd the ransom once again 
Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale; 
And on my face he turn'd an eye of death, 
Trembling even at the name of Mortimer. 

Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more: 

And now Iwill unclasp a secret book, 



hotspur's defence. 01 

And to your quick-conceiving discontents 
I'll read you matter deep and dangerous; 
As full of peril, and advent'rous spirit, 
As to o'er-walk a current, roaring loud, 
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. 

Hot. If he fall in, good night : — or sink or swim 
Send danger from the east unto the west, 
So honor cross it from the north to south, 
And let them grapple ; — O ! the blood more stirs 
To rouse a lion, than to start a hare. 
By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap 
To pluck bright honor from the pale-fac'd moon 
Or dive into the bottom of the deep, 
Where fathom-line could never touch the ground 
And pluck up drowned honor by the locks ; 
So he, that doth redeem her thence, might wear, 
Without corrival, all her dignities : 
But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship! 

Wor. Good cousin, give me audience for a while. 

Hot. I cry you mercy. 

Wor. Those same noble Scots 

That are your prisoners, 

Hot. I'll keep them all 

By heaven, he shall not have a Scot of them. 
No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not; 
I'll keep them, by this hand. 

Wor. You start away. 

And lend no ear to my purposes. — 
Those prisoners you shall keep. 

Hot. Nay, I will ; that's flat- 

He said, he would not ransom Mortimer; 
Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer ; 
But I will find him when he lies asleep, 
And in his ears I'll holla — Mortimer ! 
Nay, i 

I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak 
Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him, 
To keep his anger still in motion. 

ACT I., SCENE 3. 






92 scorer's successful recitations. 

THE LITTLE STOW-AWAY. 

( YORKSHIRE DIALECT. ) 

A Sea Story as told by an old sailor. 

" 'Bout three year ago, afore I got this berth as I'm 
in noo, I war second-engineer aboard a Liverpool steamer 
boond for New York. There'd been a lot o' hextra cargo 
sent doon just at the last minute, and we'd 'ad no end of a 
job stowin' it away, and that ran us late o' startin'; so that* 
a'th'gither, you may think, the cap'n warn't in the sweet- 
est temper in the world, nor the mate nither; as for the 
chief-engineer, he war a good-natured, easy-goin' sort o' 
a chap, as nowt on earth could put oot. But on the 
mornin' of the third day oot from Liverpool, he cum doon 
to me in a precious 'urry, lookin' as if somethin' 'ad put 
'im oot pretty considerably. 

"'Tom,' says he, 'what d'ye think? Blest if we 
ar'n't foond a stow-away ;' (That's the name you know, 
sir, as we gies to chaps as 'ides theirselves aboard out- 
ward-boond vessels an' gets carried oot unbeknown to 
everybody.)" 

" 'The dickens you 'ave? ' says I. ' Who is he, and 
where did ye find 'im ? " 

" ' Well, we foond 'im stowed away among the casks 
for'ard; an' ten to one we'd na ha'twigged 'im at a', if the 
skipper's dog 'adn't sniffed 'im oot an' begun barkin'. 
An' sich a little mite as he is, too ! I could ha' most put 
'im in my baccy-pouch, poor little beggar! but he looks 
to be a good-plucked un for a' that.' 

" I didn't wait to 'ear no more, but up on deck like a 
sky-rocket: and there I did see a sight, and no mistake. 
Every man-Jack o' the crew, and what few passengers we 
'ad aboard, war all in a ring on the fo'c'stle, and thar in 
the middle was the fust-mate, lookin' as black as thunder. 
Reet in front of 'im, lookin' a reg'lar mite among them 
greet big chaps, war a little bit o' a lad not ten-year old — 
ragged as a scare-crow, but wi' bright curly 'air, and a 
bonnie little face o' his own, if it 'adn't been so woeful 
thin and pale. But, bless yer 'eart ! to see the way that 



THE LITTLE STOW-AWAY. 93 

little chap 'eld his 'ead up, an' looked about 'im, you'd 
ha' thought the 'ole ship belonged to 'im. The mate war 
a greet 'ulkin' black-bearded feller with a look that 'ud 
ha' frightened a 'orse, and a voice fit to make one jump 
through a key-'ole; but the young un warn't a bit afeard 
— he stood straight up, and looked 'im full in the face 
with them bright, clear eyes o' his'n, for all the world as 
if he war Prince Halferd 'imself. An' folk did say 
arter wards as 'ow he corned o' better blood nor what he 
seemed; and, for my part, I'm rayther o' that way o' 
thinkin' myself ; for I never yet seed a common street- 
Harab — as they call3 them noo — cary it off like 'im. You 
might ha'''eerd a pin drop, as the mate spoke. 

" ' Well, you young whelp, what's brought you 'ere? ' 

" ? It was my step-father as done it, sir,' says the lad, 
in a weak little voice, but as steady as could be. ' Father's 
dead, and mother's married again, and my new father 
says as 'ow he won't 'ave no brats about eatin' up 'is 
wages; and he stowed me away when nobody warn't 
lookin', and guv me some grub to keep me goin' for a day 
or two till I got to sea. He says as 'ow as I'm to go to 
Aunt Jane, at 'Alifax; and 'ere's 'er address.' And 
with that, he slips 'is 'and into the breast of 'is shirt, 
and oot wi' a scrap o' paper, awful dirty and crumpled up, 
but wi' the address on it, reet enough. 

" Well, we all believed every w T ord on't, even withoot 
the paper; for 'is look, and 'is voice, and the w r ay he 
spoke, was enough to show that there warn't a ha'porth 
o' lyin' in 'is whole body. But the mate didn't seem to 
swallow the yarn at all; he only shrugged 'is shoulders 
with a kind o' grin, as much as to say, ' I'm too old a bird 
to be caught by that kind o' chaff;' and then he says to 
4m, 'Look 'ere my lad; that's all very fine, but it won't 
do 'ere — some o' these men o' mine are in the secret, and 
I mean to 'ave it out of 'em. Now, you just point oot the 
man as stowed you away and fed you, this very minute; 
if you don't, it'll be the worse for you !' 

" The lad looked up in 'is bright, fearless way (it did 
my 'eart good to look at 'im, the brave little chap!) and 
says, ' I've told you the truth ; I ain't got no more to say.' 

"The mate says nothin', but looks at 'im for a min- 



94 scorer's successful recitations. 

ute as if he'd see clean through 'im ; and then he faced 
roond to the men, lookin' blacker than ever an' shouted, 
4 Eeeve a rope to the yard ! smart now ! ' 

"The men all looked at one another, as much as to 
say, ' what on 'arth's a-comin' noo? '— but aboard ship, o' 
course, when you're told to do a thing, you've got to do 
it ; so the rope was rove in a jiffy. 

"Noo my lad,' says the mate in a 'arc!, square kind 
o' voice, that made every word seem like fittin' a stone 
into a wall, 'you see that 'ere rope? Well, I'll give you 
ten minutes to confess; and if you don't tell the truth 
afore the time's up, I'll 'ang you like a dog ! ' 

u The crew all stared at one another a*s if they 
couldn't believe their ears, (I didn't believe mine, I can 
tell ye,) and then a low growl went among 'em, like a 
wild beast awakin' oot o' a nap. 

" ' Silence there ! ' shouts the mate, in a voice like the 
roar of a nor'easter. 'Stand by to run for'ard !' as he 'eld 
the noose ready to put it roond the lad's neck. The little 
un never flinched a bit; but there war some among the 
sailors (greet big chaps as could ha' felled an ox) as shook 
like leaves in the wind. As for me, I bethought me o' 
my little curly-'aired lad at 'ome, and 'ow it 'ud be if any 
one war to go for to 'ang 'im ; and at the very thought 
on't I tingled all over, and my fingers clinched theirselves 
as if they was a-grippin' somebody's throat. I clutched 
'old o' a 'andspike, and 'eld it be'ind my back, all ready. 

"'Tom,' whispers the chief-engineer to me, 'd'ye 
think he really means to do it?' 

" ' I don't know, but if he does, he shall go first, if I 
swings for it! ' 

u I've been in many a hugly scrape in my time, but I 
never felt 'arf as bad as I did then. Every minute seemed 
as long as a dozen ; and the tick o' the mate's watch, 
reg'lar, pricked my ears like a pin. The men were very 
quiet, but there war a precious hugly look on some o' 
their faces ; and I noticed that three or four on 'em kep' 
edgin' for'ard to where the mate was, in a way that meant 
mischief. As for me, I'd made up my mind if he did go 
for to 'ang the poor little chap, I'd kill 'im on the spot, 
and take my chance. 



THE LITTLE STOW-AWAY. 95 

" ' Eight minutes, ' says the mate, his greet deep voice 
breakin' in on the silence like the toll o' a funeral bell. 
* If you've got anything to confess, my lad, you'd best out 
with it, for ye're time 's nearly up.' 

" 'I've told you the truth, and I ain't got nothin' 
more to say,' answers the boy, very pale, but as firm as 
ever. ' May I say my prayers, please? ' 

u The mate nodded ; and doon goes the poor little chap 
on his knees and puts up his poor little 'ands to pray. I 
couldn't make oot what he was sayin' (the fact is my 'ead 
was in sich a whirl that I'd 'ardly ha' knowed my own 
name,) but I'll be bound God 'eard it, every word. Then 
he ups on 'is feet, and puts 'is 'ands behind 'im, and says 
to the mate quite quietly, ' I'm ready ! ' 

"And then, sir, the mate's 'ard, grim face broke up all 
to once, like I've seed the ice in the Baltic. He snatched 
the little un up in 'is arms, kissed 'im, and burst out a-cryin' 
like a child ; and I think there warn* t one of us as didn't do 
the same. I know I did for one. 

" fc God bless you, my lad ! ' says he, pattin' 'im on the 
'ead wi' 'is greet 'ard 'and. 4 You're a true Englishman, 
every inch of you ; you wouldn't tell a lie to save your life ! 
Well, if so be as yer father 's cast yer off. I'll be yer father 
from this day 'forth; and if I ever forget you, then may God 
forget me!' 

"And he kep' 'is word, too. When we got to 'Alifax, he 
looked out the little un's aunt, and gev' 'er a lump o' money 
to make 'im comfortable ; and noo he goes to see the young- 
ster every voyage, as reg'lar as can be ; and to see the pair 
on 'em together — the little chap so fond of 'im, and not 
bearin' 'im a bit o' grudge — it's 'boot as pretty a picter as I 
ever seed. And noo, sir. axin' yer pardin', it's time for me 
to be goin' below; so I'll just wish ye good night." 



Sticking Eight to Business. — "Whatch doin' Bill? " 
"FishinV "Gimme a hook; mine's broke." "Hain't 
got no hook." "Then lemme some bait." " Hain't got 
no bait." "Ketch any fish?" "Naw." "Gittenny 
bites?" "Naw." "Then watcher doin'?" " Fishin'." 



96 scorer's successful recitations. 

THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS. 

Somewhat back from the village street 

Stands the old-fashioned country-seat. 

Across its antique portico 

Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw, 

And from its station in the hall 

An ancient timepiece says to all, — 

" Forever — never ! 

Never — forever ! " 

Half-way up the stairs it stands, 

And points and beckons with its hands 

From its case of massive oak, 

Like a monk, who, under his cloak, 

Crosses himself, and sighs, alas ! 

With sorrowful voice to all who pass, — 

t% Forever — never ! 

Never — forever ! " 

By day its voice is low and light ; 
But in the silent dead of night, 
Distinct as a passing footstep's fall, 
It echoes along the vacant hall, 
Along the ceiling, along the floor, 
And seems to say, at each chamber-door, 

u Forever — never ! 

Never — forever ! " 

Through days of sorrow and of mirth, 
Through days of death and days of birth, 
Through every swift vicissitude 
Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood, 
And as if, like God, it all things saw, 
It calmly repeats those words of awe, — 

" Forever — never ! 

Never — forever ! " 

In that mansion used to be 
Free-hearted Hospitality; 



THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS. 97 

His great fires up the chimney roared; 
The stranger feasted at his board ; 
But, like the skeleton at the feast, 
That warning timepiece never ceased, 

" Forever — never ! 

Never — forever ! ' ! 

There groups of merry children played, 

There youths and maidens dreaming strayed, 

O precious hours ! O golden prime ! 

And affluence of love and time ! 

Even as a miser counts his gold, 

Those hours the ancient timepiece told,— 

" Forever — never ! 

Never — forever ! " 



From that chamber, clothed in white, 
The bride came forth on her wedding night; 
There, in that silent room below, 
The dead lay in his shroud of snow ; 
And in the hush that followed the prayer, 
Was heard the old clock on the stair, — 

* ' Forever — never ! 

Never — forever ! ' ' 



All are scattered now and fled, 
Some are married, some are dead; 
And when I ask, with throbs of pain, 
"Ah ! when shall they all meet again? " 
As in the days long since gone by, 
The ancient timepiece makes reply, — 

"Forever — never ! 

Never — forever ! " 

Never here, forever there, 
Where all parting, pain and care, 
And death and time shall disappear, — 
Forever there, but never here ! 

HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW, 



98 scorer's successful recitations. 

LAVEKY'S HENS. 

( IRISH DIALECT. ) 

" I have a first-rate recollection but a very poor mem- 
ory. I have a distinct recollection of losing ten dollars but 
for the life of me I can't remember where.' ' 

But I can remember a story about a thrifty Hibernian, 
Michael Lavery by name, who lived in a small cottage on 
Deversy street, south side, Chicago. The cottage had no 
yard in front and the rear was ditto. However, it had a 
cellar and it occurred to Lavery that he might make 
something out of it by using it as a hen-house. He pur- 
chased a number of hens, but one cold night, during the 
following winter, the water pipes burst, flooded the cellar 
and drowned the chickens. 

One of his neighbors told him that if he would pre- 
sent the matter to the water commissioner, the city would 
make good his loss. Without further delay Lavery started 
for the Commissioner's office, and entering an outer room, 
approached the clerk. 

" Good marning sor ! I'm Michael Lavery an' I live 
on Deversy street on the south side, an' I kape chickens 
In me cellar an' the water came in an' drown'd thim, 
what '11 1 do?" 

"Sir?" 

" I'm Michael Lavery sor, an' I live on Deversy street 
on the south side, an' I kape chickens in me cellar an' the 
water corne in an' drown'd thim what '11 I do? " 

" What did you say, sir ? " 

u Tm Michael Lavery sor, an' I live on Deversy street on 
the south side, an' I kape chickens in me cellar an' the water 
come in an' drown'd thim, what HI I do? 1 ' 

" I don't know what you say, sir. Please tell it so I 
can understand you? " 

" I'm Michael Lavery sor, an' I live on Deversy 

STREET ON THE SOUTH SIDE, AN' I KAPE CHICKENS IN ME 
CELLAR AN' THE WATER COME IN AN' DROWN'D THIM, WHAT 
'LLlDO?" 

"Oh! I see, you kept chickens in your cellar, and 
the water came in and drowned them? " 



lavery's hens. 99 

"Yes, sor." 

" Well, you step into the next room and you'll find 
the commissioner at his desk. Tell him what you want. 
But, I say, Lavery, when you come out tell me what he 
says, will you? " 

" I will, sor." (Exit to next room.) 

"Good morning, sor. I'm Michael Lavery an' I live 
on Deversy street on the south side, an' I kape chickens 
in me cellar an' the water come in an' drown'd thim, 
what '11 I do?" 

"Sir." 

Ci Pm Michael Lavery an' I live on Deversy street on the 
south side, an* I kape chickens in me cellar an' the water come 
in an' drown'd thim, ichat HI I do?" 

"What, sir?" 

"I'm Michael Lavery an' I live on Deversy street 

ON THE SOUTH SIDE, AN' I KAPE CHICKENS IN ME CELLAR AN' 
THE WATER COME IN AN' DROWN'D THIM, WHAT 'LL I DO?" 

"The water come in and drowned your chickens, 
what '11 you do?" 
"Yes, sor." 
" Well sir, I can do nothing for you, so, good morn- 



ing. 



(Clerk to Lavery as he passes through other room,) 
" Well Mr Lavery, what did he say?" 
"—Rape Ducks." 



BLACK AS A XAGER. 

An Irishman, with his family, landing at Philadel- 
phia, was assisted on shore by a negro who spoke to 
Patrick in Irish. The latter taking the black fel- 
low for one of his fellow countrymen, asked him how 
long he had been in America. "About four months," was 
the reply. 

The Irishman turned to his wife and said, "Holy 
father, but four months in this country and black as a 
nager." 



100 scorer's successful recitations. 

AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTERVIEWER. 

Note.— The words of Mr. "Twain " should be spoken in a drawling* 
tone; those of the Interviewer sprightly. 

The nervous, dapper, "pert" young man took the 
chair — I offered him, and said he was connected with the 
Daily Thunderstorm, and added : 

"Hoping it's no harm, I've come to interview you." 

"Come to what?" 

"To interview you ; to get acquainted with your wife, 
your family, your " 

"Ah! I see. Yes — ye3. Um! Yes — yes, interview, 
enterview. (Business of leafing through a book.) 

" How do you spell it? " 

"Spell what?" 

"Why this er-er-enterview." 

" Why, my goodness ! what do you want to spell it 
for?" 

"Now, see here, I don't want to spell it ; I want to see 
what it means." 

"I can tell you, if you — if you " 

"O, all right! That will answer, that will do, and 
much obliged to you, too." 

"In, in, t e r , ter, inter " 

" Then you spell it with an IP" 

" Why, certainly ! " 

" With a capital I ? " 

"Why, yes, j r es ! " 

" O, that is what took me so long. I might have 
known better than that." 

" Why, my dear sir, what did you propose to spell it 
with?" 

"Well, I — I — hardly know. I had Webster's una- 
bridged dictionary, and I was ciphering around in the 
back end, hoping I might tree her among the pictures. 
But it's a very old edition." 

" Why, my dear friend, they wouldn't have a picture 

of it in even the latest e I beg you pardon sir, I 

mean no harm in the world, but you do not look as — as — 
intelligent as I had expec— " 



AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTERVIEWER. 101 

"O, don't mention it ! Don't mention it. It has often 
been said, and by people who would not natter and who 
could have no inducement to natter, that I am quite re- 
markable in that w r ay. Yes — yes they always speak of it 
with rapture." 

" I can easily imagine it. But about this interview. 
You know it is the custom, now, to interview any man 
who has become notorious." 

" Ah ! indeed, I had not heard of it before. It must 
be interesting. What do you do with it? " 

" This is disheartening. It ought to be done with a 
club in some cases; but customarily it consists in the in- 
terviewer asking questions, and the interviewed answer- 
ing them. It is all the rage. Now, sir, will you let me 
ask you certain questions calculated to bring out the sali- 
ent points of your public and private history? " 

"0, with pleasure — with pleasure. I have a very bad 
memory, but I hope you will not mind that. That is to 
say, it is an irregular memory — singularly irregular. 
Sometimes it goes at a gallop, and then again it will be as 
much as a fortnight passing a given point. Oh ! this is a 
great grief to me." 

"O, it is no matter, so you will try to do the best you 



■can 



" I will. I will put my whole mind on it." 



1 ' Thanks. Are you ready to begin ? ' ' 

" Ready." 

Q. How old are you ? 

A. Nineteen, in June. 

Q. Indeed ! I would have taken you to be thirty- 
five or six. Where were you born ? 

A. Eh? born. 

Q. Yes, sir, where were you born? 

A. Why I was born in Massa — no, New Ham — no, 
now let me see where was I born? .1 was born in the 
United States somewhere I know. Oh! yes, I was born 
in Missip — no, I wasn't. Oh yes, in Missouri. 

Q. Ah ! born in Missouri. When did you begin to 
write ? 

A. In 1836. 



102 scorer's successful recitations. 

Q. Why, how could that be, if you are only nine- 
teen now ? 

A. I don't know. It does seem curious, somehow. 

Q. It does, indeed. Whom do you consider the most 
remarkable man you ever met? 

A. Aaron Burr. 

Q. But you never could have met Aaron Burr, if you 
are only nineteen years 

A. Xow, see here, if you know more about me than I 
do, what do you ask me for? 

Q. I beg your pardon, sir, it was only a suggestion ; 
nothing more. How did you happen, happen to meet 
Burr ? 

A. Well; I happened, happened to be at his funeral 
one day, and he asked me to make less noise, and 

Q. But, good heavens ! if you were at his funeral, he 
must have been dead; and if he were dead, how could he 
care whether you made a noise or not ? 

A. I don't know. He was always a particular kind 
of a man that way. 

Q. Still, I don't understand it all. You say he spoke 
to you and that he was dead. 

A. I didn't say he was dead. 

Q. But wasn't he dead ? 

A. Well, some said he was, some said he wasn't. 

Q. What did you think? 

A. Oh, it was none of my business ! It wasn't any 
of my funeral. 

Q. Did you — However, we can never get this matter 
straight. Let me ask you something else. What was the 
date of your birth ? 

A. Monday, October 31st, 1700. 

Q. Monday, October 31st, 1700 — whew — impossible! 
let me see — why that would make you a hundred and 
ninety years old. How do you account for that? 

A. I don't account for it at all. 

Q. But you said at first you were only nineteen, and 
now you make yourself out to be over a hundred and 
ninety. It is an awful discrepancy. 

A. Why, have you noticed that? Shake hands. 
Many a time it has seemed to me like a discrepancy, but 



AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTERVIEWER. 103 

somehow I couldn't make up my mind. How quick you 
notice a thing ! eh? 

Q. Thank you for the compliment, as far as it goes. 
But had you, or have you, any brothers or sisters? 

A. Eh! I— I — I think so — yes— but I don't remem- 
ber. 

Q. Well, that is the most extraordinary statement I 
ever heard. 

A. Why, what makes you think that? 

Q. How could I think otherwise? Why, look here! 
Who is that a picture of on the wall ? Isn't that a brother 
of yours? 

A. Oh, yes, yes, yes! Xow you remind me of it; 
that teas a brother of mine. Yes that's — that's — that's 
William— Bill we called him. Poor old Bill ! 

Q. Why ? Is he dead then ? 

A. Ah ! well, I suppose so. We never could tell. 
There was a great mystery about it. 

Q. That is sad, very sad. He disappeared, then ? 

A. Well, yes, in a sort of general way. We buried 
him. 

Q. Buried him ! Buried him, without knowing 
whether he was dead or not? 

A. Oh, no! Xot that. He was dead enough. 

Q. Well, I confess that I can't understand this. If 
you buried him, and you knew he was dead — 

A. No ! no ! We only thought he was. 

Q. Oh, I see. He came to life again ? 

A. Well, you just bet he didn't. 

Q. Xow see here, somebody was dead. Somebody was 
buried. Now — now — now — where was the mystery? 

A. Now that's just it! That's it exactly. You see, 
we were twins — defunct and I — and we got mixed in the 
bath-tub when we were only two weeks old, and one of 
us was drowned. But we didn't know which. Some 
think it was Bill. Some think it was I. 

Q. Well that is remarkable. What do you think? 

A. Goodness knows ! I would give whole worlds to 
know. This solemn, this awful mystery has cast a gloom 
over my whole life. But I will tell you a secret now, which 
I never have revealed to any creature before. One of us 



104 scorer's successful recitations. 

had a peculiar mark — a large mole on the back of his left 
hand — that was me. That's the child that was drowned ! 

Then the young man reverently withdrew. He was 
very pleasant company, and I was sorry to see him go. I 
need not say that I have never been troubled with inter- 
viewers since.* samuel l. Clemens. 

* It will be seen that the irrepressible interviewer is here regarded 
as a nuisance. While the great humorist talks freely enough, and de- 
sires to be agreeable, he purposely avoids saying anything for publica- 
tion and is constantly making game of the reporter. In this way he 
finally got rid of him.— Editor. 



HEART'S EASE. 



Of all the bonny buds that blow 

In bright or cloudy weather, 
Of all the flowers that come and go 

The whole twelve months together, 
This little, purple pansy brings 
Thoughts of the sweetest, saddest things ! 

I had a little lover once 

Who used to give me posies, 
His eyes were blue as hyacinths, 

His cheeks were red as roses, 
And everybody loved to praise 
His pretty looks and winsome ways. 

The girls, who went to school with me, 

Made little jealous speeches, 
Because he brought me loyally 

His biggest plums and peaches ; 
And always at the door would wait 
To — to carry home my books and slafee! 

They " couldn't see," — with pout and fling,- 
" The mighty fascination 



heart's ease. 105 

About that little snub-nosed thing, 

To win such admiration! 
As if there weren't a dozen girls 
With brighter eyes and longer curls ! " 

And this I knew, as well as they, 

And never could see clearly, 
Why, more than Marion or May, 

I should be loved so dearly ; 
And once I asked him, " Why was this?" 
He answered only with a kiss ! 

But, then I teased, " Tell me ichy, 

I want to know the reason ! " 
Then, from the garden-bed near by, — 

The pansies were in season — , 
He plucked and gave a flower to me 
With sweet and simple gravity. 

" The garden is in bloom, " he said — , 

" With lilies pale and slender, 
With roses and verbenas red, 

And fuchsia's purple splendor; 
But over and above the rest 
This little heart's-ease suits me best! " 

"Am I your little heart's-ease, then? " 

I asked with blushing pleasure. 
He answered, " Yes ! and yes again ! 

Heart's-ease and dearest treasure, 
That the round world and all the sea 
Held nothing half so dear as me ! " 

I listened with a proud delight, 

Too rare for words to capture, 
And never dreamed that sudden blight 

Would come to still my rapture, — 
Could I foresee the tender bloom 
Of pansies 'round a little tomb ! 



106 scorer's successful recitations. 

Life holds some stern experience, 

As most of us discover, 
And I've had other losses since 

I lost my little lover ; 
But still this purple pansy brings 
Thoughts of the sweetest, saddest things ! 



THE FOXES' TAILS. 



( SCOTCH DIALECT. ) 

The characters represented are the Scotch minister and Sandy 
MacDonald, the precentor. 

The minister meeting the precentor, said: "Weel, Sandy, man; and 
how did ye like the sermon the day? " 

During the conversation that followed the precentor accuses the 
minister of "exaggeration," "amplification" and of "stretching the 
pint." Ultimately, it was agreed between them, that the first word of 
exaggeration from the pulpit was to elicit a whistle from Sandy who 
always sat immediately in front of the minister. 

Next Sunday came; the sermon had been rigorously trimmed and 
the minister seated himself in the pulpit with a radiant smile, as he 
thought of the discomfiture of Sandy. Sandy sat down as imperturb- 
able as usual, looking neither to the right hand nor to the left. Had 
the minister only stuck to his sermon that day, he would have done 
very well, and had the laugh against Sandy, which he anticipated at the 
end of the service. But it was his habit, before his sermon, to read a 
chapter from the Bible, adding such remarks and explanations of his 
own as he thought necessary. He generally selected such passages as 
contained a number of kiltie pints, so that his marvelous powers of 
eloocidalion might be called into play. On the present occasion he had 
chosen one that bristled with difficulties. It was that chapter that 
describes Sami>son as catching three hundred foxes, tying them tail to 
tail, setting firebrands in their midst, starting them among the stand- 
ing corn of the Philistines, and burning it down. As he closed the de- 
scription, he shut the book, and commenced the eloocidalion as follows: 

"My dear freends, I daresay you have been wonder- 
ing in your minds how it was possible for Sampson to 
catch three hundred foxes. You or me couldna catch one 
fox, let alone three hundred — the beasts run so fast. It 
taks a great company of dogs and horses and men to catch 
a fox, and they do not always catch it then — the cra'ter 
whiles gets away. But lo and behold ! here we have one 
single man, all by himself, catching three hundred of 



THE FOXES' TAILS. 107 

them. Now how did he do it? — that's the pint; and at 
first sight it looks a gey an' kittle pint. But it's not so 
kittle as it looks, my freends; and if you give me your 
undivided attention for a few minutes I'll clear away the 
the whole difficulty, and mak what now seems dark and 
incomprehensible to your uninstructed minds as clear as 
the sun in his noonday meridian. 

M Well, then, we are told in the Scriptures that Sam- 
son was the strongest man that ever lived; and, further- 
more, we are told in the chapter next after the one we 
have been reading, that he was a very polite man ; for 
when he was in the house of Dagon, he bowed with all his 
might; and if some of you, my freends, would only bow 
with half your might it would be all the better for you. 
But, although we are told all this, we are not told that 
he was a great runner. But if he catched these three 
hundred foxes he must have been a great runner, an 
awful runner; in fact, the greatest runner that ever was 
born. But, my freends — an' here's the eloocidation o' the 
matter — ye'll please bear this in mind, that although we 
are not told he was the greatest runner that ever lived, 
still we're not told he wasna; and therefore I contend 
that we have a perfect right to assume, by all the laws of 
Logic and Scientific History, that he was the fastest run- 
ner that ever was born ; and that was how he catched his 
three hundred foxes ! 

"But after we get rid of this difficulty, my freends, 
another crops up — after he has catched his three hundred 
foxes, how does he manage to keep them all together? 
This looks almost as kittle a pint as the other — to some it 
might look even kittler ; but if you will only bring your 
common sense to bear on the question, the difficulty will 
disappear like the morning cloud, and the early dew that 
withereth away. 

" Xow you will please bear in mind, in the first place > 
that it was foxes that Samson catched. Now we don't 
catch foxes, as a general rule, in the streets of a toon ; 
therefore, it is more than probable that Sampson catched 
them in the country, and if he catched them in the coun- 
try it is natural to suppose that he 'bided in the country ; 
and if he 'bided in the country it is not unlikely that he 



108 scorer's successful recitations. 

lived at a farm-house. Now at farm-houses we have 
stables, and byres, and coach-houses, and barns, and there- 
fore we may now consider it a settled pint, that as he 
catched his foxes, one by one, he stapped them into a 
good sized barn, and steeked the door and locked it, — here 
we overcome the second stumbling block. But no sooner have 
we done this, than a third rock of offense loups up to 
fickle us. After he has catched his foxes ; after he has 
got them all snug in the barn under lock and key — how 
in the world did he tie their tails thegitherf There is a fickler. 
You or me couldna tie two o' their tails thegither — let 
alone three hundred ; for, not to speak about the beasts 
girnning and biting us a' the time we were tying them, 
the tails themselves are not long enough. How then was he 
able to tie them all? That's the pint — and it is about the 
kittlistpint you or me has ever had to eloocidate. Common 
sense is no good to't. ]STo more is Latin or Greek; no 
more Logic or Metaphysics ; no more is Natural Philos- 
ophy or Moral Philosophy; no more is Rhetoric or Bell's 
Letters, even, and I've studied them a' mysel' ; but it is a 
great thing for poor, ignorant folk like ye, that great and 
learned men have been to colleges, and universities, and 
seats o' learning — like mysel', ye ken — and instead o' going 
into the kirk, like me, or into physic, like the doctor, or in- 
to law, like the lawyer, they have gone traveling into 
foreign parts; and they have written books o' their trav- 
els; and you and me can read their books. Now, among 
other places, some of these learned men have traveled into 
Canaan , and some into Palestine, and some few into the 
Holy Land ; and these last mentioned travelers tell us, 
that in these Eastern or Oriental climes, the foxes there 
are a total different breed o' cattle aHhegither frae our foxes ; 
that they are great big beasts — and, what's the most aston- 
ishing thing about them, and what helps to explain this 
wonderful feat of Samson's, is, that they've all got most 
extraordinary long tails ; in fact, these travelers tell us that 
these foxes' tails are actually forty feet long. 

Precentor (whistles). 

Minister (somewhat disturbed). Oh ! I ought to say 
that there are other travelers, and later travelers than the 
travelers I've been talking to you about, and they say 



. ALEX-AND-HER. 109 

this statement is rather an exaggeration on the whole, 
and that these foxes' tails are never more than twenty feet 
long. 

Precentor (whistles). 

Minister (disturbed and confused). Be — he — before 
I leave this subject a'thegither, my friends, I may jeest 
add that there has been considerable diversity o' opinion 
about the length o' these animals' tails. Ye see one man 
differs frae anither man, and I've spent a good lot o' 
learned research in the matter mysel' ; and after examin- 
ing one authority, and anither authority, and putting one 
authority agin the ither authority, I'v come to the con- 
clusion that these foxes' tails are seldom more tham fifteen 
and a half feet long. 

Precentor (whistles). 

Minister (angrily). Sandy MacDonald, I'll no tak 
anither inch aff o' the beast's tails, even gin ye should 
whustle every tooth oot o' your head. Do ye think the 
foxes o' the Scriptures had na tails at a' ? 



ALEX-AXD-HEK. 



There was a chap who kept a store, 
And though there might be grander, 

He sold his goods to all who came, 
And his name was Alexander. 



He mixed his goods with cunning hand, 

He was a skillful brander ; 
And, since his sugar was half sand, 

They called him Alex-Sander. 

He had his dear one, and she came, 
And lovingly he scanned her ; 

He asked her would she change her name, 
Then a ring did Alex-hand-her. 



110 scorer's successful recitations. 

"Oh, yes," she said, with smiling lip, 
" If I can be commander; ?? 

And so they framed a partnership, 
And called it Alex-and-her. 



THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL. 

Vital spark of heavenly flame, 
Quit, oh ! quit this mortal frame ! 
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, — 
Oh the pain — the bliss of dying ! 
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, 
And let me languish into life ! 

Hark ! they whisper : angels say, 
" Sister spirit, come away ! " 
What is this absorbs me quite, — 
Steals my senses, shuts my sight, 
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath? — 
Tell me, my soul ! can this be death ! 

The world recedes — it disappears ; 

Heaven opens on my eyes; my ears 

With sounds seraphic ring : 

Lend, lend your wings ! I mount, I fly ! 

O Grave ! where is thy victory? 

O Death ! where is thy sting ? 

ALEXANDER POPE. 



" 'RASTUS." 



Um-m, fo' de Lod's sake ! da am dat chile down da on 
dat rail track agin playin' wid dat white trash. Fust 
thing yo' know he dun gon' git kill. Look heah 'Rastus, 
come in heah off da railroad track. Quitplayin' with dat 
I'sh trash. Clar to goodness folks think yo' was I'sh. 
Dey lick all de lasses off yo' bread, den de call yo' nigge. 
Um-m, deed dey will ! Come right in de house heah ! 
Oh ! I slap de life out o' yo' ! De idea! yo' hab yo' poor 
ole mudder's life worried out o' her. 'Rastus, come in 
heah. Yo heah' me? 



TOUSSAINT L'OIVERTUKE. Ill 

TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE. 

Some doubt the courage of the negro. Go to Hayti, and 
stand on those fifty thousand graves of the best soldiers 
France ever had, and ask them what they think of the 
negro's sword. And if that does not satisfy you, go to 
France, to the splendid mausoleum of the Counts of Roch- 
ambeau, and to the eight thousand graves of Frenchmen 
who skulked home under the English flag, and ask them. 
And if that does not satisfy you, come home, and if it had 
been October, 1859. you might have come back by way of 
quaking Virginia, and asked her what she thought of negro 
courage. 

You may also remember this, — that w r e Saxons were 
slaves about four hundred years, sold with the land, and our 
fathers never raised a finger to end that slavery. They wait- 
ed till Christianity and civilization, till commerce and the 
discovery of America, melted away their chains. Every 
race has been, some time or another, in chains. But there 
never was a race that, weakened and degraded by such chat- 
tel slavery, unaided, tore off its own fetters, forged them in- 
to swords, and won its liberty on the battle-field, but one, 
and that was the black race of St. Domingo. 

So much for the courage of the negro. Now look at his 
endurance. In 1805 he said to the white men, "This island 
is ours ; not a white foot shall touch it. ,, Side by side with 
him stood the South American republics, planted by the 
best blood of the countrymen of Lope de Vega and Cervan- 
tes. They topple over so often that you could no more da- 
guerreotype their crumbling fragments than you could the 
waves of the ocean. And yet, at their side, the negro has 
kept his island sacredly to himself. 

Now, blue-eyed Saxon, proud of your race, go back with 
me to the commencement of the century, and select what 
statesman you please. Let him be either American or 
European ; let him have a brain the result of six generations 
of culture ; let him have the ripest training of university 
routine; let him add to it the better education of practical 
life; crown his temples with the silver of seventy years; 
and show me the man of Saxon lineage for whom his most 
sanguine admirer will wreath a laurel rich as embittered 
foes have placed on the brow of this negro. 



112 scorer's successful recitations. 

I would call him Napoleon, but Napoleon made his 
way to empire over broken oaths and through a sea of 
blood. This man never broke his word. I would call 
him Cromwell, but Cromwell was only a soldier, and the 
state he founded went down with him into his grave. I 
would call him Washington, but the great Virginian held 
slaves. This man risked his empire rather than permit 
the slave trade in the humblest village in his dominions. 

You think me a fanatic to-night, for you read history 
not with your eyes, but with your prejudices. But fifty 
years hence, when Truth gets a hearing, the Muse of His- 
tory will put Phocion for the Greek, and Brutus for the 
Koman, Hampden for England, Fayette for France, 
choose Washington as the bright, consummate flower of 
our earlier civilization, and John Brown the ripe fruit of 
our noon-day; then, dipping her pen in the sunlight, 
will write in the clear blue, above them all, the name of 
the soldier, the statesman, the martyr, Toussaint 
L'Ouverture. 

wendell phillips. 



THE BLUE WART. 

Young Mulkettle went to school a few days ago for 
the first time. He had been carried through a course of 
sprouts at home in preparation for the heavier duties of 
school life, and his examinations were so satisfactory that 
Mrs. Mulkettle congratulated herself on her skill as a 
teacher. It was decided that he should attend a private 
school, taught by a pious maiden lady, with angular 
shape and a blue wart on the side of her nose. 

"Now Miss Ray," said Mrs. Mulkettle, when she pre- 
sented the boy for the first time to the teacher, " I want 
you to make him mind you. I don't think you will find 
him self-willed. He is easily governed by kind treat- 
ment. I think he will become very much attached to you 
and I feel sure that you will learn to love him." 

"Oh, I am quite sure," replied Miss Ray, who had 
been much more successful in her love affairs with chil* 



THE BLUE WART. 113 

dren than she had with men. "All iny scholars love me. 
Don't throw paper wads, Tommy Peters. They soon 
learn that though I am gentle, I will be obeyed. Johnny 
Amos, don't rake the wall with that nail ! " 

" Well, I will leave him with you, Miss Ray. Willie, 
be a good boy." 

" Yess'um." 

" Don't let me hear any bad reports from you." 

"No'um." 

"Come here my little man and let me see how far you 
are advanced," said Miss Ray when his mother had gone. 

" I am way past baker and shady and lady and I can 
read and write easy words, and {looking up he notices the 
wart) what's that on your nose? " 

" You can read some, can you? " 

" Imph-m. What's that on your nose? " 

" Its a wart. Now pay attention to me." 

" It's a mighty funny wart. What kind of a wart 
is it?" 

" I don't know. Now pay attention to me." 

" You know its blue, don't you? " 

"Yes." 

" Thought you didn't know." 

" Hush, now, and let me see how far you have gone." 

"Does it hurt?" 

"No." 

" Why don't you pick it? " 

"Hush now children. You are enough to drive a 
body wild." 

" Don't you wish it wasn't there? " 

"No. Now look here." 

" I am looking there. Why don't you pull that hair 
out of It— Oh ! no it ain't a hair. I thought it was." 

"If you don't stop asking so many questions, I'll 
send you home." 

" But I want to know what I want to know, just as 
bad as you want to know what you want to know." 

" Well, what do you want to know. I'll satisfy you if 
it is in my power." 

"How long has that wart been there? " 

"Ever since I can remember." 



i 



114 scorer's successful recitations, 



" Has it been blue all the time ? " 

" Yes." 

"Will it always be blue? " 

" I suppose it will." 

" Don't you ever try to take it off? " 

"No." 

" Why haven't you?" 

" Because I haven't." 

" Why because you haven't? " 

" I don't know." 

" Why?" 

" You are enough to drive a body crazy." 

"It keeps you from getting married, don't it? Cause 
no body wouldn't want " 

"You leave here this minute, you good for nothing 
little rascal. Go home and don't you ever come back 
again." 



A HINDOO TALE, 



A Hindoo died, — a happy thing to do 

When twenty years united to a shrew. 

Released, he joyfully for entrance cries 

Before the gates of Brahma's paradise. 

" Hast been through purgatory ? " Brahma said, 

"I've been married," — and meekly hung his head. 

" Come in, come in, and welcome, too, my son ! 

Marriage and purgatory are as one." 

With bliss supreme he entered heaven's door, 

And felt the peace he ne'er had known before. 

He scarce had entered the garden fair, 

Another Hindoo asked admission there. 

The self-same question Brahma asked again : 

" Hast been through purgatory ? " " No — what then ? " 

" Thou canst not enter ! " did the sage reply. 

" He who went in has been no more than I." 

"All that is true, but he has married been, 

And so on earth has suffered for all sin." 

"Married? Ah! 'tis well; I've been married twice." 

" Begone ! We'll have no fools in Paradise ? " 



DRIFTING. 115 

DRIFTING. 

My soul to-day is far away, 

Sailing the Vesuvian Bay ; 

My winged boat, a bird afloat, 

Swims round the purple peaks remote : — 

Round purple peaks it sails, and seeks 

Blue inlets, and their crystal creeks, 

Where high rocks throw, through deeps below, 

A duplicated golden glow. 

Far, vagute and dim, the mountains swim : 
While on Vesuvius' misty brim, 
With outstretched hands, the gray smoke stands 
O'erlooking the volcanic lands. 

Here Ischia smiles o'er liquid miles; 
And yonder, bluest of the isles, 
Calm Capri waits, her sapphire gates 
Beguiling to her bright estates. 

I heed not, if my rippling skiff 
Float swifc or slow from cliff to cliff; — 
With dreamful eyes my spirit lies 
Under the walls of Paradise. 

The day, so mild, is Heaven's own child, 
With Earth and Ocean reconciled ; — 
The airs I feel around me steal 
Are murmuring to the murmuring keel. 

Over the rail my hand I trail 
Within the shadow of the sail, 
A joy intense, the cooling sense, 
Glides down my drowsy indolence. 

With dreamful eyes my spirit lies 
Where Summer sings and never dies, — 
O'erveiled with vines, she glows and shines 
Among her future oil and wines. 



116 scorer's successful recitations. 

Her children hid the cliffs amid, 
Are gamboling with the gamboling kid; 
Or down the walls, with tipsy calls, 
Laugh on the rocks like waterfalls. 

The fisher's child, with tresses wild, 
Unto the smooth, bright sand beguiled, 
With glowing lips sings as she skips, 
Or gazes at the far-off ships. 

Yon deep bark goes where traffic blows, 
From lands of sun to lands of snows; — 
This happier one, its course is run 
From lands of snow to lands of sun. 

Oh, happy ship, to rise and dip, 
With the blue crystal at your lip ! 
Oh, happy crew, my heart with you 
Sails, and sails, and sings anew! 

No more, no more the worldly shore 
Upbraids me with its loud uproar ! 
With dreamful eyes my spirit lies 
Under the walls of Paradise. 



t. b. read, 



A FRENCHMAN'S OPINION OF THE TRAGEDY OF 

MACBETH. 

"Ah ! your Mossieu' Shak-es-pier ! He is gr-r-aa-nd 
— mysterieuse — soo-blime! You 'ave reads ze Macabess? 
— ze scene of ze Mossieu' Macabess vis ze Vitch — eh? 
Superb sooblimitee? W'en he say to ze Yitch, 'Ar-r- 
roynt ze, Yitch ! ' she go away : but what she say when 
she go away ? She say she will do s'omesing dat aves got 
no naame ! 'Ah, ha ! ' she say, ' I go, like ze r-r-aa-t vizout 
ze tail but I'll do! I'll do I I'll do!' Wat she do? Ah, ha! 



A TEXAS DUEL. 117 

— voila le graand mysterieuse Mossieu' Shak-es-pier ! She 
not say what she do ! " 

This was "grand," to be sure: but the prowess of 
Macbeth, in his "bout" with Macduff, awakens all the 
mercurial Frenchman's martial ardor: — 

" Mossieu' Macabess, he see him come, clos' by; he 
say (proud empressment), 'Come o-o-n, Mossieu' Macduff's, 
and d — d be he who first say Enoffs! ' Zen zey fi-i-ght — 
moche. Ah, ha! — voila! Mossieu' Macabess, vis his 
br-r-ight r-r-apier ' pink' him, vat you call, in his body. 
He 'ave gots mal d'estomac: he say, vis grand simplicite, 
'Enoffs! ' What for he say ' Enoffs ? ' 'Cause he got enoffs 
— plaanty; and he expire, r-rr-ight away, 'mediately, 
pretty quick! Ah, mes amis, Mossieu' Shak-es-pier is 
rising man in La Belle France ! " 



A TEXAS DUEL, 



The other day a duel was fought in Texas by Alex- 
ander Shott and John S. Xott. Xott was shot, and Shott 
was not. In this case it was better to be Shott than Xott. 

There was a rumor that Xott was not shot but Shott 
avows that he shot Xott, which proves either that the shot 
Shott shot at Xott was not shot, or that Xott was shot, 
notwithstanding. 

Circumstantial evidence is not always good. It may 
be made to appear ou trial that the shot Shott shot, shot 
Xott, or, as accidents with firearms are frequent, it may 
be possible that the shot Shott shot, shot Shott himself, 
when the whole affair would resolve itself into its 
original elements, and Shott would be shot and Xott 
would be not. 

We think, however, that the shot Shott shot, shot 
not Shott, but Xott; anyway it was hard to tell who 
was shot. 



118 scorer's successful recitations. 

SHAMUS O'BKIEN. 

( IRISH DIALECT. ) 

The war of 1792- '98 was the most disastrous recorded in Irish 
history. The loss of life was enormous. Some counties were almost 
depopulated. 

Jist afcher the war, in the year '98, 

Whin the byes of aulcl Ireland wor scattered and bate, 

'Twas the custom, whinever a pisant was got, 

To hang him by thrial — barrin' sich as was shot. 

There was trial by jury goin' on by daylight, 

And the martial-law hangin' the lavins by night. 

It 's thim was hard times for an honest gossoon : 

If he missed in the judges — he 'd meet a dragoon; 

An' whether the sodgers or judges gev sentence, 

The divil a much time they allowed for repintence. 

An' it 's many 's the fine bye was thin on his keepin' 

Wid small share iv restin' or atin' or sleepin'. 

An' because they loved Erin, an' scorned to sell it, 

A prey for the bloodhound, a mark for the bullet — 

Unsheltered by night, and unrested by day, 

With the heath for their barrack, revenge for their pay; 

An' the bravest an' hardiest bye iv thim all 

Was Shamus O'Brien, from the town iv Glingali. 

His limbs were well set, an' his body was light, 

An' the keen-fanged hound had not teeth half so white ; 

But his face was as pale as the face of the dead. 

And his cheek never warmed with the blush of the red. 

An' for all that he wasn't an ugly young bye, 
For the divil himself couldn't blaze with his eye, 
So droll an' so wicked, so dark and so bright, 
Like a fire-flash that crosses the depth of the night ! 
An' he was the best mower that ever has been, 
An' the illigantist hurler that ever was seen. 
An' in fencin' he gave Patrick Mooney a cut, 
An' in jumpin' he bate Tim Mulloney a fut; 
An' for lightness of fut there was n't his peer, 



SHAMUS O'BRIEN. 119 

For, be gorra, he could almost outrun the red deer ! 
An' his dancin was sich that the men used to stare. 
An' the women turn crazy, he did it so quare ; 
An' by gorra, the whole world gev in to him there. 
An' it 's he was the bye that was hard to be caught, 
An' it 's often he run, an' it 's often he fought, 
An' it 's many the one can remimber right well 
The quare things he done : an' it 's often I heerd tell 
How he frightened the magistrates in Caharbally, 
An' 'scaped through the sodgers in Aherloe valley ; 
How he lathered the yeomen, himself agin four, 
An' stretched the two strongest on old Galtimore. 

But the fox must sleep sometimes, the wild deer must rest, 
And in the darkness of night he was taken at last. 

An' as soon as a few weeks was over an gone, 

The terrible day iv the thrial kem on, 

There was sich a crowd there was scarce room to stand, 

An' sodgers on guard, an' dhragoons sword-in-hand ; 

An' the court-house so full that the people were bothered, 

An' attorneys an' criers on the point iv bein' smothered ; 

An' counsellors almost gev over for dead, 

An' the jury sittin' up in their box overhead ; 

An' the judge settled out so detarmined an' big 

With his gown on his back, and an illegant new wig ; 

An' silence was called, an' the minute it was said 

The court was as still as the heart of the dead, 

An' they heard but the openin' of one prison lock, 

An' Shamus O'Briex kem into the dock. 

For a minute he turned his eye round on the throng, 
An' he looked at the bars, so firm and so strong, 
An' he saw that he had not a hope nor a friend, 
A chance to escape, nor a word to defend ; 
An' he folded his arms as he stood there alone, 
As calm and as cold as a statue of stone ; 
And they read a big writin', a yard long at laste, 
An' Jim didn't understand it, nor mind it a taste, 
An' the judge took a big pinch iv snuff, and he says, 
"Are you guilty or not, Jim O'Brien, av you plase? " 



120 scorer's successful recitations. 

An' all held their breath in the silence of dhread, 

An' Shamus O'Brien made answer and said : 

" My lord, if you ask me, if in my life-time 

I thought any treason, or did any crime 

That should call to my cheek, as I stand alone here, 

The hot blush of shame, or the coldness of fear, 

Though I stood by the grave to receive my death-blow 

Before God and the world I would answer you, no! 

But if you would ask me, as I think it like, 

If in the rebellion I carried a pike, 

An' fought for ould Ireland from the first to the close, 

An' shed the heart's blood of her bitterest foes, 

I answer you, yis; and I tell you agin', 

Though I stand here to perish, it 's my glory that thin 

In her cause I was willing my veins should run dhry, 

An' that now for her sake I am ready to die." 

Then the silence was great, and the jury smiled bright, 

An' the judge wasn't sorry the job was made light; 

By my sowl, it's himself was the crabbed ould chap ! 

In a twinklin' he pulled on his ugly black cap. 

Then Shamus' mother in the crowd standin' by, 

Called out to the judge with a pitiful cry : 

"O, judge ! darlin', don't, O, don't say the word ! 

The crather is young, have mercy, my lord; 

He was foolish, he didn't know what he was doin' ; 

You don't know him, my ljn'd — O, don't give hirn to ruin ! 

He's the kindliest crathur, the tindherest-hearted; 

Don't part us forever, we that 's so long parted. 

Judge, mavourneen, forgive him, forgive him, my lord, 

An' God will forgive — O, don't, don't say the word ! " 

That was the first minute that O'Brien was shaken, 
Whin he saw that he was not quite forgot or forsaken ; 
An' down his pale cheeks, at the word of his mother, 
The big tears wor runnin' fast, one afther th' other; 
An' two or three times he endeavored to spake, 
But the sthrong manly voice used to falther and break; 
But at last, by the strength of his high-mounting pride, 
He conquered and masthered his grief's swelling tide, 






SHAMUS O'BRIEN. 121 

"An'," says he, u mother, darlin', don't break your poor 
For, sooner or later, the dearest must part ; [heart, 

And God knows it 's betther than wandering in fear 
On the bleak, trackless mountain, among the wild deer, 
To lie in the grave, where the head, heart, and breast, 
From thought, labor, and sorrow, forever shall rest. 
Then, mother, my darlin', don't cry any more, 
Don't make me seem broken, in this, my last hour, 
For I wish, when my head 's lyin' undher the raven, 
Xo thrue man can say that I died like a craven ! " 
Thin towards the Judge, Shamus bent down his head, 
An' that minute the solemn death-sentence was said. 

At last they threw open the big prison-gate, 

An' out came the sheriffs and sodgers in state, 

An' a cart in the middle an' Shamus was in it, 

Xot paler, but prouder than iver, that minute. 

An' as soon as the people saw Shamus O'Brien, 

Wid prayin' and blessin', and all the girls cryin', 

A wild wailin' sound kem on by degrees, 

Like the sound of the lonesome wind bio win' through trees. 

On, on to the gallows the sheriffs are gone, 

An' the cart an' the sodgers go steadily on ; 

An' at every side swellin' around of the cart, 

A wild, sorrowful sound, that id open your heart. 

Now under the gallows the cart takes its stand, 

An' the hangman gets up with the rope in his hand ; 

An' the priest, bavin' blest him, goes down on the ground 

An' Shamus O'Brien throws one last look around. 

Then the hangman dhrew near, an' the people grew still, 
Young faces turned sickly, and warm hearts turn chill; 
An' the rope bein' ready, his neck was made bare, 
For the gripe iv the life-strangling chord to prepare ; 
An' the good priest has left him, havin' said his last prayer. 
But the good priest did more, for his hands he unbound 
An' with one daring spring Jim has leaped on the ground ; 
Bang ! bang ! goes the carbines, and clash goes the sabres ; 
He's not down! he's alive still! now stand to him, neighbors! 
Through the smoke and the horses he's into the crowd, — 
By the heavens, he's free ! — * * * * * * 



122 scorer's successful recitations. 

The soclgers ran this way, the sheriffs ran that, 
An' Father Malone lost his new Sunday hat; 
To-night he '11 be sleepin' in Aherloe Glin, 
An' the divil 's in the dice if you catch him ag'in. 
Your swords they may glitter, your carbines go bang, 
But if you want hangin' it 's yourself you must hang. 

Well, a week after this time without firing a cannon, 

A sharp, Yankee schooner sailed out of the Shannon, 

And the captain left word he was going to Cork, 

But the divil a bit, he was bound for New York. 

The very next spring, a bright morning in May, 

Just six months after the great hangin' day, 

A letter was brought to the town of Kildare. 

An' on the outside was written out fair 

"To ould Mistress O'Brien in Ireland or elsewhere. " 

And the inside began, "My dear good old mother, 

I'm safe — and I'm happy — and not wishing to bother 

You in the readin' (with the help of the priest) 

I send you inclosed in this letter at least 

Enough to pay him and fetch you away 

To this land of the free and the brave, Amerikay. 

Here you '11 be happy and never nade cryin' 

So long as you 're mother of Shamus O'Brien. 

An' give me love to swate Biddy and tell her beware 

Of that spalpeen who calls himself Lord of Kildare. 

An' just tell the Judge, I don't care a rap, 

For him or his wig, or his dirty black cap, 

An' as for dragoons, thim paid men of slaughter, 

Just say that I love thim as the divil loves holy water. 

An' now my good mother, one word of advice : 

Fill your bag with pittatyes and whusky and rice, 

An' when you start from ould Ireland take passage at Cork 

An' come straight over to the town of New York, 

An' there ax the mayor the best way to go 

To the state of Cincinnati in the town of Ohio, 

For 'tis there you will find me without much tryin' 

At the Harp and the Eagle kept by Shamus O'Brien." 

Note. — The authorship of this poem is in doubt. It is sometimes 
credited to J. S. Le Fanu, hut usually to Samuel Lover. See Dublin 
University Magazine, July, 1850. 



POPULAR SUFFRAGE MADE SAFE BY EDUCATION. 123 

POPULAK SUFFRAGE MADE SAFE BY EDU- 
CATION. 

We are apt to be deluded into false security by political 
catch-words, devised to flatter rather than instruct. We 
have happily escaped the dogma of the divine right of kings. 
Let us not fall into the equally pernicious error that mul- 
titude is divine because it is a multitude. The words of 
our great publicist, the late Dr. Lieber, whose faith in re- 
publican liberty was undoubted, should never be for- 
gotten. In discussing the doctrine of " Vox Populi, vox 
Dei" he said: 

" Woe to the country in which political hypocrisy 
first calls the people almighty, then teaches that the voice 
of the people is divine, then pretends to take a mere 
clamor for the true voice of the people, and lastly, gets 
up the desired clamor." 

This sentence ought to be read in every political 
caucus. It would make an interesting and significant 
preamble to most of our political platforms. It is only 
when the people speak truth and justice that their voice 
can be called "the voice of God." Our faith in the 
democratic principle rests upon the belief that intelligent 
men will see that their highest political good is in liberty, 
regulated by just and equal laws; and that in the distri- 
bution of political power it is safe to follow the maxim, 
" Each for all, and all for each." We confront the dan- 
gers of the suffrage by the blessings of universal educa- 
tion. We believe that the strength of the state is the ag- 
gregate strength of its individual citizens; and that the 
suffrage is the link, that binds in a bond of mutual inter- 
est and responsibility, the fortunes of the citizen to the 
fortunes of the state. Hence as popular suffrage is the 
broadest base; so, when coupled with intelligence and 
virtue it becomes the strongest, the most enduring base 
on which to build the superstructure of government. 

Our great hope for the future, — our great safe-guard 
against danger, — is to be found in the general and 
thorough education of our people, and in the virtue 
which accompanies such education. And all these ele- 
ments depend in a large measure upon the intellectual 



124 scorer's successful recitations. 

and moral culture of the young men who go out from our 
various institutions of learning. From the standpoint of 
this general culture we may trustfully encounter the 
perils that assail us. Secure against dangers from abroad ; 
united at home by the strongest ties of common interest 
and patriotic pride; holding and unifying our vast terri- 
tory by the most potent forces of civilization ; relying up- 
on the intelligent strength and responsibility of each 
citizen, and most of all upon the power of truth, — with- 
out undue arrogance, we may hope that in the centuries 
to come, our Republic will continue to live, and hold its 
high place among nations as " The heir of all the ages, in 
the foremost files of time." 

J. A. GARFIELD. 



AMERICAN EVOLUTION. 

The political mission of the United States has so far 
been wrought out by individuals and territorial conditions. 
Four men of unequal genius dominated our century, and 
the growth of the West has revolutionized the Republic, 
The principles which have heretofore controlled the policy 
of the country have mainly owed their force and acceptance 
to Hamilton, Jefferson, Webster and Lincoln. The two 
great creative contests of America were purely defensive. 
They were neither the struggles of dynastic ambitions nor 
of democratic revenges. They were calm and determined 
efforts for good government, and closed without rancor or 
the husbanding resources for retaliation. The Revolution 
was a war for the preservation of well-defined constitutional 
liberties, but dependent upon them were the industrial free- 
dom necessary for the development of the country, the 
promotion of manufactures, and independence of foreign 
producers. 

At this period, in every part of the world, the doctrine 
that the Government is the source of power and that the 
people have only such rights as the Government had given, 
was practically unquestioned, and the young Republic be- 
gan its existence with the new dynamic principle tliat the 



AMERICAN EVOLUTION. 125 

people are the sole source of authority, and that the Gov- 
ernment has such powers as they grant to it and no others. 

For nearly fifty years the prevailing sentiment favored 
the idea that the Federal compact was a contract between 
sovereign States. Had the forces of disunion been ready 
for the arbitrament of arms, the results would have been 
fatal to the Union. That ablest observer of the American 
experiment, De Tocqueville, was so impressed by this that 
he based upon it an absolute prediction of the destruction 
of the Republic. But at the critical period when the popu- 
larity, courage and audacity of General Jackson were 
almost the sole hope of nationality, Webster delivered in 
the Senate a speech unequaled in the annals of eloquence 
for its immediate effects and lasting results. The appeals 
of Demosthenes to the Athenian democracy, the denuncia- 
tions of Cicero against the conspiracies of Cataline, the 
passionate outcries of Mirabeau pending the French Revo- 
lution, the warnings of Chatham in the British Parliament, 
the fervor of Patrick Henry for independence, were of tem- 
porary interest and yielded feeble results compared with the 
tremendous consequences of this mighty utterence. It 
broke the spell of supreme loyalty to the State and created 
an unquenchable and resistless patriotism for the United 
States. 

There is an intellectual awakening in this land, and its 
stimulants affect the well-being and safety of life and prop- 
erty and law. The teachers of disintegration, destruction 
and infidelity possess the activity of propagandists and the 
self-sacrificing spirit of martyrs. Their field is ignorance, 
their recruiting sergeants distress. Only faith grounded in 
knowledge can meet these dangerous, ceaseless and corrupt- 
ing influences. In the midst of these perils, the sheet- 
anchor of the Ship of State is the common school. Igno- 
rance judges the invisible by the visible. Turn on the lights. 
Teach first and last Americanism. Let no youth leave the 
school without being thoroughly grounded in the history, 
the principles and the incalculable blessings of American 
Liberty. Let the boys be the trained soldiers of constitu- 
tional freedom, and the girls the intelligent mothers of free- 
men. 

As the human race has moved along down the 



126 scorer's successful recitations. 

centuries, the vigorous and ambitious, the dissenters from 
blind obedience and the original thinkers, the colonists 
and State builders, have broken camp with the morning, 
and followed the sun until the close of clay. They have 
tarried for ages in fertile valleys and beside great streams ; 
they have been retarded by barriers of mountains and 
seas beyond their present resources to overcome ; but as 
the family grew into the tribe, the tribe into the nation, 
and equal authority into the despotism of courts and 
creeds, those who possessed the indomitable and uncon- 
querable spirit of freedom, have seen the promise flashed 
from the clouds in the glorious rays of the sinking orb of 
day, and first with despair and courage, and then with 
courage and hope, and lastly with faith and prayer, they 
have marched westward. In the purification and trials of 
wandering and settlement they have left behind narrow 
and degrading laws, traditions, customs and castes, until 
now, as the Occident faces the Orient across the Pacific 
and the globe is circled, at the last stop and in their per- 
manent home the individual is the basis of government, 
and all men are equal before the law. The glorious ex- 
ample of the triumphant success of the people governing 
themselves fans the feeble spirit of the effete and ex- 
hausted Asiatic with the possibilities of the replanting of 
the Garden of Eden and the restoration of the historic 
grandeur of the birth-place of mankind. 

CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 



THE TEAGI-COMEDY OF LIFE. 

" The world is a stage, men and women are the play- 
ers; Chance composes the piece, Fortune distributes the 
parts; the fools shift the scenery; the philosophers are 
the spectators ; the rich occupy the boxes; the powerful 
the orchestra ; and the poor the gallery. The Forsaken 
of Lady Fortune snuff the candles, Folly makes the con- 
cert, and Time drops the curtain. — Such is the tragi- 
comedy of life. 



HULLO. 127 

HULLO. 

Permission of the "Yankee Blade." 



? ?» 



Wen you see a man in woe, 
Walk right up and say " Hullo 
Say t4 Hullo " and " How d'ye do? 
How's the world a-usin' 3^ou?" 
Slap the fellow on the back ; 
Bring your hand down with a whack; 
Walk right up, and don't go slow; 
Grin an' shake, an' say " Hullo ! " 

Is he clothed in rags? Oh»! sho ; 
Walk right up an' say "Hullo ! " 
Hags is but a cotton roll 
Jest for wrappin' up a soul ; 
An' a soul is worth a true 
Hale and hearty " How d'ye do? " 
Don't wait for the crowd to go, 
Walk right up and say ; * Hullo ! " 

When big vessels meet, they say 
They saloot an' sail away. 
Jest the same are you an' me 
Lonesome ships upon a sea; 
Each one sailin' his own log, 
For a port behind the fog. 
Let your speakin' trumpet blow ; 
Lift your horn an' cry " Hullo ! " 

Say "Hollo ! " an' " How d'ye do? " 

Other folks are good as you. 

W'en you leave your house of clay 

Wanderin' in the far away, 

W'en you travel through the strange 

Country t'other side the range, 

Then the souls you've cheered will know 

Who ye be, an' say u Hullo." 

S. W. FOSS. 



128 scorer's successful recitations. 

THE OKTHOD-OX TEAM. 

"Hold on, stranger! Turn out yonder close to the Avail! 
For the road's rather narrow and I've got it all ! 
Whoa, back, haw there, old Baptist ! Whoa, Methodist, whoa ! 
These are oxen that need all the road, you must know. 
Yes, I drive without swearin', though strange it may seem, 
For I'm drivin', good stranger, my orthod-ox team ! " 
Said the lumberman of Calaveras. 

" That Episcopal ox is of excellent breed. 
He's more noted for style than he is for his speed. 
Though of delicate structure, this ox will not shirk, 
But he never was known, sir, to sweat at his work. 
He's a good, pious ox, never losin' his way, 
For he reads all the signboards and goes not astray ! " 
Said the lumberman of Calaveras. 

" There's the good Baptist ox ; he's hard shell to the bone; 
Close communion in diet — he eats all alone ! 
Shakes his head when it's raining and closes his eyes ; 
He hates to be sprinkled, though it comes from the skies ! 
Why he won't cross a bridge unless dragged by the team ! 
He'll go nowhere, I swon, but clown into the stream ! " 
Said the lumberman of Calaveras. 

^ Presbyterian, gee! Congregational, haw! 
They're good stock, let me tell you, and know how to draw ! 
They're so perfectly matched, sir, that very few folk 
Can tell 'em apart when they're out of the yoke ! 
But you see a slight difference when it is shown : 
One leans on his elders and one stands alone! " 
Said the lumberman of Calaveras. 

" There's an ox I term Israel, oldest of all; 
Once he grazed in the garden before Adam's fall ; 
He went into the Ark at the time of the flood, 
And when Pharaoh starved he was chewin' his cud ! 
There's an ancestry, sir, full of glory, no doubt, 
But for goring the Master they're scattered about ! " 
Said the lumberman of Calaveras. 



THE ORTHOD-OX TEAM. 129 

u I've an ox over there who tends strictly to ; biz ! ' 
He's the Catholic ox ; what a monster he is ! 
And he keeps growin' big, while he keeps. growin' old! 
And he never lets go where he once gets a hold ! 
He's a strong one, yon bet! why I never yet spoke 
But he started right off, with his neck in the yoke! " 
Said the lumberman of Calaveras. 

u There's old Methodist, one of the best on the road ! 
You'd suppose, by the fuss, he alone dragged the load! 
How he pulls when I sing hallelujah and shout; 
But the worst of it, he keeps changin' about! 
He was bought on probation, and he works like a top ; 
But I've had him three years, and suppose I must swop ! 
Said the lumberman of Calaveras. 

" That suave Universalist many admire 
Think's the devil's a myth with his great prairie lire ! 
There's an Adventist claimin' to have second sight ; 
If he keeps on a guessin' he'll guess the thing right ! 
And the Seventh Day Baptist— their numbers are such 
If they do break the Sabbath they don't break it much ! " 
Said the lumberman of Calaveras. 



"Got a Spiritist? Yes. sir; I bought one by chance; 
When it comes to hard work he goes off in a trance ! 
Nothin' practical, sir, in a medium ox 

When you have to keep proddin' with rappin's and knocks ! 
But I must keep movin' and ploddin' along 
With my orthod-ox team, or the world will go wrong ! " 
Said the lumberman of Calaveras. 



"Take the road that I came, and beware of short cuts ! 
You will not lose the way if you follow the ruts. 
I am sorry to force you, my friend, to turn out; 
But this is the regular lumberman's route ! 
On the road of life, stranger, my right is supreme; 
All the world must turn out for my Orthod-ox team !" 
Said the lumberman of Calaveras. 

FRED EMERSON BROOKS. 



130 scorer's successful recitations. 

CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 

There are but three individuals upon whom mankind, 
with some approach to general consent, have bestowed 
the epithet of "the Great." Shall we compare our 
Washington for a moment with each of them ? Shall we 
compare him with Peter the Great of Russia, who flour- 
ished in the beginning of the century, and hewed that 
political colossus of the North into form and sym- 
metry? A sovereign of vast, though often most ill- 
directed energy; a fearless, and, on some occasions, a 
beneficent reformer ; a consummate organizer, who with 
a kind of rough tact, truly felt the pulses of national life 
in the Titanic frame which he called into being ; pursu- 
ing a few grand ideas, though often by eccentric methods 
bordering on madness, but with a resolution which no 
labors could weary and no dangers appall, and forcing 
them with an iron will upon an unsympathizing and apa- 
thetic people. These are his titles to the epithet of 
"Great" ; but with them all he was an unmitigated tyrant, 
— the murderer, perhaps the torturer, of his own son ; a 
man who united the wisdom of a philosopher and the 
policy of a great prince with the tastes of a satyr, the 
manners of a barbarian, and the passions of a fiend; 
guilty of crimes so hideous and revolting, that if I at- 
tempted to describe them, I should drive you shrieking 
from this hall. You surely would not permit me to place 
the name of Washington in comparison with his. 

Or shall we compare him with Frederick the Second of 
Prussia, to whom complacent public opinion has also ac- 
corded the epithet of "Great." He was no doubt a mili- 
tary and a civil genius of the first order; by the energy 
of his character he built up a kingdom scarcely known 
by that title when he came to the throne, into a first-rate 
power; the fearless soldier, the profound strategist, the 
heroic chief; nor less a master of political combination, 
a zealous promoter of the material prosperity of his sub- 
jects, who doubled the population of his little kingdom, 
and increased all the resources in more than the same 
proportion, notwithstanding the wars in which he was 
continually involved ; but at the same time a pedant, os- 



CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 131 

tentatious, of superficial literary attainments, a wretched 
poetaster, a dupe of the insipid adulation of godless foreign 
wits, who flattered him to his face and ridiculed him be- 
hind his back; a German sovereign who yet preferred to 
write and speak poor broken French, in which Voltaire 
said there was not a sentence which you would not know 
to be the language of a foreigner; a prince raised by 
Providence in the bitter school of adversity to an absolute 
throne, entertaining the most exalted ideas of the 
Kingly prerogative, drawing everything, even the ad- 
ministration of justice, into an arbitrary centralization, 
who had yet trained his undevout heart to believe that 
blind chance or blind destiny occupies the throne of the 
universe; that the heavens and the earth could do with- 
out a God, though the paltry electorate of Brandenburgh 
could not do without a king; and that while it w^as im- 
possible for him to hold the scattered provinces of his lit- 
tle realm together without a daily outgoing of civil, mili- 
tary, and judicial power, moved by one intellect and one 
will, could yet believe that the systems and systems which 
compose the universe, beyond the power of human speech 
to enumerate, or human thought to conceive, are thrown 
out into one vast anarchy, wheeling and hurtling through 
the regions of space without a lawgiver and without a 
head. 

Or shall we compare Washington with the third 
greatness of his age, the illustrious captain of the last 
generation in France; that portentous blazing star which 
began to flame in the eastern sky as our benignant lumin- 
ary was sinking in the west, amidst the golden clouds of 
a nation's blessings? I have no wish to trample on the 
memory of Napoleon the First, wiiom I regard by no 
means as the most ambitious of conquerors, the most arbi- 
trary of despots, or the worst of men. The virtues and 
the feelings, like the talents, the opportunities, and the 
fortunes of this extraordinary man, are on too colossal a 
scale to be measured by ordinary standards of morality. 
The prevalent opinions in this country of his character 
and career have come to us through a British medium, 
discolored by a national prejudice and the deadly strug- 
gle of a generation ; or by natural reaction have been 



132 scorer's successful recitations. 

founded on the panegyrics of grateful adherents and ad- 
miring subjects, who deem every Frenchman a partner in 
the glory of their chief. Posterity and impartial history 
will subdue the lights and relieve the shadows of the pic- 
ture. They will accord to him a high, perhaps the high- 
est, rank among the great masters of war, placing his 
name upon an equality with the three great captains of 
antiquity, if not above them ; will point to his code as a 
noble monument of legislative wisdom ; will dwell upon 
the creative vigor with which he brought order out of the 
chaos of the Eevolution, retrieving the dilapidated finan- 
ces and restoring the prostrate industry of France ; will 
enumerate the harbors, the canals, the bridges, the public 
buildings, the Alpine roads, the libraries, the museums, 
and all the thousand works of industrious peace and pro- 
ductive art ; will not withhold their admiration for the 
giant grasp of his genius and the imperial grandeur of 
his fortunes, nor deny a tribute of human sympathy to 
his calamitous decline and fall. But the same impartial 
history will record more than one ineffaceable stain upon 
his character, and never, to the end of time, never on the 
page of historian, poet or philosopher; never till a taste 
for true moral greatness is eaten out of the hearts of men 
by a mean admiration of success and power ; never in the 
exhortations of the prudent magistrate counseling his 
fellow-citizens for their good ; never in the dark ages of 
national fortune, when anxious patriots explore the an- 
nals of the past for examples of public virtue ; never in 
the admonition of the parent forming the minds of his 
children by lessons of fireside wisdom ; never, O never, 
will the name of Napoleon, nor any of the other of the 
famous conquerors of ancient and modern days, be placed 
upon a level with Washington's. 

EDWARD EVERETT. 



LAUGHING ENCOKE. 

( Imagine you have just seen something too funny to tell. ) 

Ha! ha! ha! he! he! he! ho! ho! ho! haw! haw! haw! 
[Speaker still laughing) Well, sir, you just ought to have 
seen him, — he-e-e, he ! he ! he ! — well he-e-e-ha ! ha ! ha £ 
ho! ho! ho! (Laughing heartily, bending over, hands on sides.) 



THE GRAND ARMY BADGE. 133 

THE GRAXD ARMY BADGE. 

Hold on ! Hold on ! My Goodness, you take my breath, 
my son, 

A-firin' questions at me, like shots from a Gatlin' Gun — 

Why do I wear this eagle an' flag an' brazen star, 

An' why do my old eyes glisten when somebody men- 
tions war? 

An' why do I call men "comrade," and why do my eyes 
grow bright, 

When you hear me tell your grandma I'm going to post 
to-night ? 

Come here, you inquisitive rascal, and set on your grand- 
pa's knee, 

An' I'll try an' answer the broadside you've been a-firin' 
at me. 

Away back in the sixties, an' long afore you were born, 
The news came a-flashin' to us, one bright an' sunny 

morn, 
That some of our Southern brothers, a-thinkin', no doubt, 

'twar right, 
Had trailed their guns on our banner, an' opened a nasty 

fight. 
The great big guns war a booming, an' the shot flyin' 

thick an' fast, 
An' troops all over the southland war rapidly bein' 

massed, 
An' a thrill went through the nation, a fear that our glo- 
rious land 
Might be split an' divided an' ruined by a mistaken 

brother's hand. 

Lord! but wa'n't there excitement an' didn't the boys' 
eyes flash ? 

An' didn't we curse our brothers fur bein' so foolish an' 
rash ? 

An' didn't we raise the neighbors with loud an' con- 
tinued cheers, 

When Abe sent out a dockyment a-callin' fur volunteers? 



i 



134 scorer's successful recitations. 

An' didn't we flock to the colors when the drums began 

to beat? 
An' didn't we march with a proud step along this village 

street ? 
An' didn't the people cheer us when we got aboard the 

cars, 
With the flag a-wavm' o'er us, and went away to the wars ? 

I'll never forgit your grandma as she stood outside o' the 

train, 
Her face was as white as the snowdrift, her tears a-fallin' 

like rain — 
She stood there quiet an' deathlike, 'mid all the rush an' 

noise, 
For the war war a-takin' from her her husband an' three 

brave boys — 
Bill, Charley, and little Tommy — just turned eighteen, 

but as true 
An' gallant a little soldier as ever wore the blue. 
It seemed almost like murder, too, for to tear her poor 

heart so, 
But your grandpa couldn't stay, baby, and the boys war 

determined to go. 

The evening afore we started she called the boys to her 

side, 
An' told 'em as how they war always their mother's joy 

an' pride, 
An' though her soul was in torture, an' her poor heart 

bleedin' and sore, 
An' though she needed her darlings, their country needed 

'em more. 
She told 'em to do their duty wherever their feet might 

roam, 
An' to never forgit in battle their mother war praying at 

home. 
An' if (an' the tears nigh choked her) they should fall in 

front o' the foe, 
She'd go to her Blessed Saviour an' ax Him to lighten the 

blow. 



THE GRAND ARMY BADGE. 135 

Bill lays an' awaits the summons 'neathSpottsylvania sod, 
An' on the field of Antietam Charlie's spirit went back to 

- God ; 
An' Tommy, our baby Tommy, we buried one starlight 

night 
Along with his fallen comrades, just after the Wilderness 

fight. 
The lightning struck our family tree, an' stripped it of 

every limb, 
A-leavin' only this bare old trunk, a-standin' alone an' 

grim. 
^Iy D °y> that's why your grandma, when you kneel to 

the God you love, 
Makes you ax Him to watch your uncles, an make 'em 

happy above. 

That's why you sometimes see her with tear-drops in her 

eyes ; 
That's why you sometimes catch her a-tryin' to hide her 

sighs ; 
That's why at our great reunions, she looks so solemn 

and sad ; 
That's why her heart seems a-breakin' when the boys are 

so jolly and glad; 
That's why you sometimes find her in the bedroom over- 
head, 
Down on her knees a-prayin', with their pictures laid out 

on the bed, 
That's why the old-time brightness will light up her face 

no more, 
Till she meets her hero warriors in the camp on the other 

shore. 



An' when the great war was over, back came the veterans 

true, 
With not one star a-missin' from the azure field of blue; 
An' the boys who on the field o' battle had stood the fiery, 

test, 
Formed posts of the great Grand Army in the ^North, 

South, East an' West. 



136 scorer's successfui RECITATIONS. 

Fraternity, Charity, Loyalty, is the motto 'neath which 

they train — 
Their object to care for the helpless, an' banish sorrow 

an' pain 
From the homes o' the widows an' orphans o' the boys 

who have gone before, 
To answer their names at roll-call in that great Grand 

Army Corps. 

An' that's why we wear these badges, the eagle an' flag 

an' star, 
Worn only by veteran heroes who fought in that bloody 

war; 
An' that's why my old eyes glisten while talkin' about 

the fray, 
An' that's why I call men " comrade" when I meet 'em 

every day ; 
An' that's why I tell your grandma, "I'm going to post 

to-night," 
For there's where I meet the old boys who stood with me 

in the fight, 
And, my child, that's why I've taught you to love and 

revere these men 
Who come here a-wearin' badges to fight those battles 

again. 

They are the gallant heroes who stood 'mid the shot 
and the shell, 

An' follered the fly in' colors right into the mouth o' hell — 

They are the men whose valor saved the land from dis- 
grace and shame, 

An' lifted her back in triumph to her perch on the dome 
of fame; 

An' as long as you live, my darling, till your pale lips in 
death are mute, 

When you see that badge on a bosom, take off your hat 
an' salute; 

An' if any ol' vet should halt you an' question why you do, 

Just tell him you've got a right to, fur your grandad's a 
comrade, too. 

CAPT. JACK CRAWFORD, THE POET SCOUT. 



137 
BILL MASON'S BKIDE. 

( As altered and recited "by Mr. Scorer. ) 

Its a most train time, sir, its a most train time, an' a 
fearful dark time, too. S-a-y, just take a look at the switch 
lights, Tom, an' bring in a stick when you're through. 
"Eh, on time?" W-e-11, y-e-s, I guess so — left the last 
station all right. She'll come round the curve a flyin', Bill 
Mason comes up to-night. 

Say, d'you know Bill? Whew! Don't know Bill 
Mason ! Why he's an engineer, been on the road all his life. 
I'll never forget the mornin' he married his chunk of a 
wife. 'Twas the summer the mill hands struck, just off 
work, every one. They kicked up a row in the village an' 
killed old — Donovan's son. 

Bill hadn't been married mor'n an hour, when down 
comes a message from Kress, orderin' Bill to go up thar, 
an' bring down the night express. He left his gal in a 
hurry an' went up on number one, thinking of nothing but 
Amy, an' the train he had to run. 

An' Amy sat down by the window to wait for the night 
express; an', sir, if she hadn't a done so, she'd a been a 
widow, I guess. It must a' been nigh midnight w T hen the 
mill hands left the bridge, They came dowm — the drunken 
devils ! an' tore up a rail from the bridge. 

But Amy, God bless 'er, heard 'em a w^orkin' an' guessed 
thar was something wrong, an' in less than fifteen minutes, 
Bill's train w T ould be along. Well she couldn't come down 
here to tell us, mor'n a mile — it wouldn't a done, sir — it 
wouldn't a done; so she just grabbed up a lantern, an' 
struck out fer the bridge alone. An' down came the night 
express, sir, an' Bill w T as makin' 'er climb! but Amy held 
the lantern, a swingin' it all the time. 

Well ! By Jove, sir ! Bill saw the signal, an' he stopped 
the night express, an' he found his Amy cryin', cryin' on 
the track in her weddin' dress ; cryin' an' laughin' for 
joy, sir, an ; holdin' on to the light — hello! here's the train 
— well, good bye, sir, good bye, Bill Mason's on time to- 
night. 

BRET HARTE. 



138 scorer's successful recitations 

EVEK SO FAE AWAY.— Yon Boyle. 
By Special Permission of the Author. 

There are two very funny fellows in this city : one is Mr. 
Pointer, the insurance man ; the other is Mr. Dingelbender, 
the butcher man. 

As Mr. Dingelbender sat at supper the other evening, the 
door-bell rang, and Mr. Pointer came rushing into the dining- 
room. 

"Dinglebender, I'm in a scrape, and I want you to 
help me out." 

"You got shcrapes, eh! Veil you shcraped yourselluf 
in — now you can shcrape yourselluf oudt again." 

"Friend Dingelbender, I'm not joking now; I'm in 
dead earnest." 

"Is dot so! Yhen vill dhey burry you? Look here 
vonct, Mr. Pointer. You vas such a awful choker dat if you 
vas really deadt in earnest, all your friend ts vould tink some- 
how it a good choke. But if you vas really in some tifficulties, 
und I can shcrape you oudt, I vill pe fery habby to shcrape 
you already ! " 

"Thanks. Well this is how the matter stands. I engaged 
a magician, you know, to give our Sunday-school an enter- 
tainment, this evening, and the gentleman met with an acci- 
dent while practicing some trick. Now I want you to come 
right around and take his place." 

"No, sir. You tink I vill make a laughing-shtocking 
oudt of mineselluf ? " 

"No, Mr. Dingelbender ; I simply want you to address 
the children." 

"Dress dem shildren ! Poor leetle tings, und such a 
coldt night, too ! Vy don't you sendt dem back home und 
make deir barents dress dem? " 

"Now, Dingelbender, don't tease me, and I'll promise 
not to make fun of you any more. Will you address the 
children for me?" 

"Yes, 1 vill do de pest vot I can." 

Mr. Dingelbender was as good as his word. In half an 
hour he was at the chapel, confronting a large and enthusiastic 
audience. Rising to the importance of the occasion, he said : 

"Mrs. Ladies und shentlemans — und shildrens — esbeci- 
ally de shildrens : 



EVER SO FAR AWAY. 139 

"I tink on such occasions like dhis ve should recomember 
dot men und vomens vas only Children of de larger growdt', 
und dot poys und girls vas men und vomen in miniature. 
Efery man und vomans vas vonce a leetle girl — a leetle poy I 
mean — und de poy of to-day vill be de man of to-morrow, — or 
de day afder to-morrow. Efery goodt man has shtill some- 
ting of de poy apout him, und efery true poy has someting of 
de man apout him ; und all great mens dhey lofe shildrens. T 
lofe shildrens mineselluf ; I can't helb it — I vas porn dat vay. 

"I recomember vhen I vas a leetle shild mineselluf, shust 
as blain as dhough it vas to-morrow. I had puttons all 
ofer me, und copper door-blates on de frond t of mine shoes to 
keep mine toes inside. UnoJ. I had a leetle shweetheart. Her 
frondt name vas Susan — Susan Ann Gugenheimer. She used 
to sing a leetle song like dhis. 

[Sings.] 
Vot care I for goldt und siloer, 
Vot care I for haus und landt? 
Vot care I for sniffs in de ocean — 
All vot I vant vas a nice yunk man. 
Und I vas her nice yunk man dot time. 

'•'Yell ve poys had also a song. Yot you call dot song 
now, vhere you put your handts up dhis vay? [indicating.] 
Oh, I know now, it's [sings.] 'London pridge vas purning up, 
purning up, purning up.' Dot's it. Yell, vhile ve sing dot 
song dhem leetle girls dhey used to go underbeneath our 
handts, und ve — veil, ve usedt to kiss 'em. Oh, my ! [smacks 
lips] dem vas de shweetest kisses ; I can tasdt dhem yedt." 

"Yell, de odher tay I vas sidding by mine open vindow. 
Dot school-haus hadt shust ledt himselluf oudt — it vas recess 
times. I pegan to tink apout shildhoodt tays — dhem olden 
tays, — dhem golden tays vot vill nefer come pack on me ! I 
fell in a shleep und saw de shky vas all full mit cloudts, und 
de cloudts vas full mit shildrens, und de shildrens vas full mit 
choy, singing und playing dhem happy songs und games of 
shildhoodt. Suttenly dhere appeared amongst dhem a eldterly, 
kindly man dot I recognized at vonce as Fader Goose — I mean 
Fader Gander. He recited a leetle poem dot amoosed the 
shildrens, und somehow touched a responsif chord in mine 
own heart. It vas called "Ever So Far Away" und vas some- 
ting like dhis : 



140 scorer's successful recitations 

My name it vas Fader Gander, 
Und I come vrom of er yonder 
Ofer de hills, past Shones's Mills — 

It vas efer so far avay. 
I came vrom a town in Yonderland, 
It's a peautiful blace you must undershtand, 
Vhere dhey nefer get late, dhey vas alvays on handt, 

But it's efer so far avay. 

Dhe beoples all de vhile dhere, 

Dhey laugh und dhey sing und dhey shmile dhere : 

Dhere vas nefer a frown in all of dot town, 

But it's efer so far avay. 
Und nopody dhere vas naughdy und rude ; 
Und de law of love vas so veil understoodt 
Dat dhey shpend all dheir time in de doing of goodt — 

But it's efer so far avay. 

Dhey're careful to be righdt dhere ; 
Dhey nefer scholdt nor fighdt dhere, 
Und nopody's poor — I'm certain und sure 

Dot it's efer so far avay. 
Und nopody goes to law ofer dhere ; 
Yhy, dhey haven't a shail, nor a shudge, nor a mayor, 
For de beoples vas honest, dhey're fair und dhey're 
shquare — 

But it's efer so far avay. 

De nights vas bright as tay dhere, 
Und dhey haf all kinds of blay dhere ; 
Und in a palloon dhey visit de moon — 

Oh, dot's efer so far avay. 
You took vot you vant, for noting vas soldt, 
Yhy, dot landt vas all full mit silber und goldt ! 
Und dhey alvays grow yunk — dhey nefer grow oldt ; 

But it's efer so far avay. 

De mosquitos nefer pite you ; 

I'm sure dhey vouldt telight you, 

By singing dheir song de whole night long, 

Pu-z-z-z ! efer so far avay. 
Yhat efer you vant you make a vish, 
Und it's prought to you in a shina tish, 



EVER SO FAR AWAY. 141 

A shlice of pie or a piece of fish — 
But it's efer so far avay. 

Xow vouldt you like to go dhere, 
Und see dot vonderful show dhere, 
Ofer de hills, past Shones's mills, 

Und efer so far avay? 
Dhen don't you pe cross und say naughdy tings, 
Und a shpirit vill took you right under his vings, 
To dot landt vhere de honey-bee solemnly sings, 
Und bumples und puzzes und yet nefer slitings, 
Und de shildren all blay mit ponies und sh wings, 
Und vear such fine dresses you'd tink dhey vas kings, 
Und efery vone shouts vhen de tinner-pell rings, 

It's efer und efer so far, far, far avay. 
"Und shust dhen I voke oudt ; und it vas only a tream. 

But somehow I tink our pest treams vill all come true in dot 

'Shweet pye und pye.' " 



THE STOEY OF BEX-HUE. 

The following synopsis of the Story of Ben-Hur will give reciters a 
clear understanding of the events preceding the famous Chariot Race, 
described on pages 364 to 376 of Ben-Hur. 

Explanation.— Bex-Hub is a young Jew of wealthy and noble 
parentage— a prince of Jerusalem. 

Mess ala is a Roman, proud, arrogant and ambitious. 

In childhood these two were close friends but in later years, by 
reason of Messala's jealous and unfriendly disposition, they became 
estranged, and finally enemies. 

As the Roman Procurator Gratus was passing through Judea with 
his legions, he was struck upon the head by a piece of tiling, accident- 
ally pushed from the roof of Hur's house by young Ben-Hur. Messala 
pointed out to the soldiers Ben-Hur, and charged that the missile was 
thrown with malicious irjient. Accordingly Ben-Hur was taken pris- 
oner by the Romans and made a galley-slave. His mother and sister 
were sent to prison, their property was confiscated, and divided be- 
tween Gratus and the informer Messala. 

After years of servitude Ben-Hur gained his liberty as a reward 
for his bravery and became the adopted son and heir of the wealthy 
Roman, Quintus Arrius, whose life he had saved during a sea-fight 
with pirates. He soon became famous in Rome as an athlete. 

Contemporaneously his opponent, Messala, had won fame and in- 
fluence as a charioteer in the Circus Maximus. 

The scene described in the selection is laid at Antioch (in the time 
of Christ's ministry), at the games in the Circus in honor of the Roman 
Consul Maxentius. 

Ben-Hur, filled with a desire for revenge, acts as charioteer for 
Ilderim, an Arab Sheik, with the earnest hope of winning the race and 
humbling the proud Messala in the presence of the multitude.— Editob. 



142 scorer's successful recitations. 

ME AND JIM. 

We were both brought up in a country town, 

Was me an' Jim; 
An' the hull world somehow seemed ter frown 

On me an' him. 
At school we never was given a chance 
To larn that Africa wasn't in France, 
An' we both wore patches on our pants, 

Did me an'. Jim. 

But we grew up hearty, an' hale, an' strong, 

Did me an' Jim ; 
We knowed ev'ry note in a thrush's song, 

Did me an' him; 
An' we knowed whar the blue-birds built their nests 
When the spring tripped over the mountains' crests, 
Why the robbins all wore scarlet vests, 

Did me an' Jim. 

Then we fell in love, jest as most folks do, 

Did me an' Jim. 
We was arter the same gal, though, we two, 

That's me an' him ; 
An' she treated us jest alike, did she, 
When at quiltin' party or huskin'-bee; 
We was even up in the race, you see, 

Was me an' Jim. 

I popped at last, an she answered me " No; " 

Jim follered suit ; 
But she wouldn't hev him, an' told him so. 

Forbidden fruit 
We called her then, an' I'm afraid 
That we fumed a little. An' then we prayed 
That she'd live an' she'd die a plain old maid, 

Did me an' Jim. 

Then the war broke out, an' Company B 

Caught me an' Jim. 
We both of us fit fer the Union — see? 

Did me an' him. 



ME AND JIM. 143 

An' we heerd the screechin' o' shot an' shell, 



The snarlin' o' guns, an' the rebel yell, 
An' follered the flag through the battle's hell, 
Did me an' Jim. 

'Twas the day that we fit at Seven Oaks 

Death came to Jim, 
An' excuse me, please, but I sorter chokes 

Talkin' o' him. 
Fer his rugged brown hand I held in mine 
Till his soul passed out through the picket-line, 
Whar an angel waited, the countersign 

To git from Jim. 

Then I fit along till the war was done 

Without poor Jim ; 
Was given a sword instead of a gun, 

An' thought o' him. 
An' I wore an eagle when mustered out 
On my shoulder-straps, an' I faced about 
Fer the startin' p'int o' my hull life's route, 

But not wi' Jim. 

I was quite a man in that country place 

I'd left wi' Jim ; 
She gave me a smile wi' a blushin' face, 

An' asked 'bout him. 
So I told her how, as she sat 'longside, 
Like a soldier brave he had fought an' died, 
An' then — well, I kissed her because she cried — 

Kissed her fer Jim. 

Then I married her one bright day in June, 

Fer me an' Jim. 
Oft under the light o' the stars an' moon 

We talked o' him ; 
An' when our boy was wantin' a name, 
An' we thought our relatives through fer th' same, 
Then fresh again his memory came, 

'IN" we called him Jim. 

CHICAGO TIMES. 



144 scorer's successful recitations. 

JEKRY, THE NEWSBOY. 

" Buy a paper, plaze ! She is frozen a'most, 
Here's Commercial, and News, and Mail, 
And here's the Express, and the Averting Post, 
And ivery one has a tirrible tale — 
A shipwreck — a murther — a fire alarm — 
Whichiver ye loike — have a paper, marm ? 
Thin buy it, plaze, av this hit av a gurrul, 
She's new in the business, and all av a whirrul ; 
We must lind her a hand," said little Jerry, 
" There's a plinty av thrade at the Fulton Ferry. 

" She's wakely for nade av the tay and the toast — 
The price av a paper — plaze, sir, buy a Post? 
Thrue as me name it is Jeremiah, 
There's a foine report av a dridful fire, 
And a child that's lost, and a smash av a train ; 
Indade, sir, the paper's just groanin' wid pain ! 
Spake up, little gurrul, and don't be afraid. 
I'm schraichin' fo two till I start yez in thrade. 
While I yell, you can sell," said little Jerry, 
Screeching for two at Fulton Ferry. 

The night was bleak, the wind was high, 
And a hurrying crowd went shivering by : 
And some bought papers, and some bought none, 
But the boy's shrill voice rang cheerily on : 
" Buy a Post, or a News, or a Mail, as you choose, 
For my arm just aches wid weight av the news. 
Express? Not a single one left for to-night — 
But buy one av this little gurrul, sir — all right. 
She's a a reg'lar seller here at the ferry, 
And I rickomind her high," said Jerry. 

In the whirl of the throng there passed a man, 
" The bell is ringing, I cannot wait ; 
Here, girl, a Commercial, as quick as you can, 
The boat is starting — don't make me late." 
And on through the hurrying crowd he ran, 



JERRY, THE NEWSBOY. 145 

The wee girl followed close behind, 

After the penny he could not find; 

While, with a spring through the closing gate, 

After her money bounded Jerry, 

Bagged and panting, at Fulton Ferry. 

"One cent from the man in the big fur coat! 
Give me the change, or I'll stop the boat." 
Up from the deck a laugh and a cheer, 
Ic changed to a shuddering cry of fear 
As he bent his head for the fearful spring, 
And then — like a wild bird on the wing — 
Over the whirling waters swung, 
Touching the boat with his hands and clung, 
Gasping and white, to the rail, and cried : 
" Where is that mean old man, who tried 
To steal one cent from a girl at the ferry, — 
A poor little girl, with no friend but Jerry? " 

Over the side went a hundred hands, 

From a hundred mouths rang forth commands : 

" Pull him in! " " Stop the boat! " " Take his stock!" 

" Let us buy 
All the papers he has!" "Send him home to get dry!" 
"]STo,indade," said the boy — "that's not w'at I meant; 
I don't want yer money ; I want that one cent 
From the man in the warr'm fur coat an' hat, 
Who could steal a cent from a poor gurrul like that. 
Af iver he tries that game agin, 
He'd better take me, and not Margery Flynn ! " 

Then cheer on cheer for little Jerry 

Eang across the Fulton Ferry. 

MARY LOWE DICKINSON, 



HAD BEEX DIPPED. 

The Village Pastor — Johnny, you tell me you have 
been to Sunday School ? 

The Bad Boy — Yes, sir. 

The Village Pastor, (with a suspicious glance at the 
river) — But, Johnny, your hair is wet. 

The Bad Boy — Yes, sir, it's a Baptist Sunday School. 



146 scorer's successful recitations. 

AUNTY PAKSOXS'S MISSION STORY. 

( Especiall7 for Missionary Meetings, Churches, and Sunday Schools. ) 

I told Hezekiah — that's my man. People mostly call 
him Deacon Parsons, but he never gets any deaconing 
from me. We were married— " Hezekiah and Amariah " 
— that's going on forty years ago, and he's jest Hezekiah 
to me, and nothin' more. 

Well, as I was saying, says I: " Hezekiah, we aren't 
right. I am sure of it." And he said: "Of course not. 
We are poor sinners, Amy; all poor sinners." And I 
said : " Hezekiah, this 'poor sinner' talk has gone on long 
enough. I suppose we are poor sinners, but I don't see 
any use of being mean sinners ; and there's one thing I 
think is real mean." 

It was jest after breakfast; and, as he felt poorly, he 
hedn't gone to the shop yet; and so I had this little talk 
with him to sort o' chirk him up. He knew what I was 
was comin' to, for we hed had the subject up before. It 
was our little church. He always said: "The poor 
people, and what should we ever do?" And I always 
said: " We never shall do nothin' unless we try." And 
so when I brought the matter up in this way, he just be- 
gan bitin' his toothpick, and said: "What's up now? 
Who's mean ? Amariah, we oughtn't to speak evil of one 
another." Hezekiah always says "poor sinners,'" and 
doesn't seem to mind it, but when I occasionally say 
"mean sinners" he somehow gits oneasy. But I was 
started, and I meant to free my mind. 

So I said, says I: "I was goin' to confess our sins. 
Dan'l confessed for all his people, and I was confessin' 
for all our little church. 

" Truth is," says I, " ours is alius called one of the 
1 feeble churches,' and I am tired about it. I've raised 
seven children, and at fourteen months old every boy and 
girl of 'em could run alone. And our church is fourteen 
years old," says I, " and it can't take a step yet without 
somebody to hold on by. The Board helps us and General 
Jones, good man, he helps us — helps too much, I think — 
and so we live along, but we don't seem to get strong. 



AUNTY PARSONS'S MISSION STORY. 147 

Our people draw their rations every year as the Indians 
do up at the agency; and it doesn't seem sometimes as if 
they ever thought of doing anything else." 

" They take it so easy," I said. " That's what wor- 
ries me. I don't suppose we coul'd pay all expenses, but 
we might act as if we wanted to, and as if we meant to 
do all we can." 

"I read," says I, "last week about the debt of the 
Board, and this week, as I understand," says I, "our appli- 
cation is going in for another year, and no particular effort 
to do any better, and it frets me. I can't sleep nights, and 
I can't take comfort Sundays. I've got to feelin' as if we 
were a kind of perpetual paupers. And that was what I 
meant when I said : 'It is real mean V I suppose I said it a 
little sharp," says I, "but I'd rather be sharp than flat 
any day, and if we don't begin to stir ourselves w r e shall 
be flat enough before loug, and shall deserve to be. It 
grows on me. It has jest been ' Board, Board, Board,' for 
fourteen years, and I'm tired of it. I never did like 
boardin'," says I; "and, even if we were poor, I believe 
we might do something toward settin' up house-keepin' 
for ourselves." 

"Well, there's not many of us; about a hundred, I 
believe, and some of these is women folks, and some is 
jest girls and boys. And we all have to work hard and 
live close; but," says I, "let us show a disposition if 
nothin' more. Hezekiah, if there's any spirit left in us, 
let us show some sort of a disposition." 

And Hezekiah had his toothpick in his teeth, and 
looked down at his boots and rubbed his chin, as he 
always does when he's goin' to say somethin'. " I think 
there's some of us that shows a disposition." 

Of course I understand that hit, but I kep' still. I 
kep' right on with my argument, and I said : " Yes, and a 
pretty bad disposition it is. It's a disposition to let our- 
selves be helped when we ought to be helping ourselves. 
It's a disposition to lie still and let somebody carry us. 
And we are growing up cripples only we don't grow. 

" 'Kiah," says I, "do you hear me?" Sometimes 
when I want to talk a little he jest shets his eyes, and be- 
gins to rock himself back and forth in the old arm-chair, 



148 scorer's successful recitations. 

and he was doin' that now. So I said: " 'Kiah, do you 
hear?" And he said: "Some!" and then I went on. 
" I've got a proposition," says I. And he sort o' looked 
up, and said: " Hev you? Well, between a disposition 
and a proposition, I guess the proposition might be 
better." 

He's awful sarcrostic, sometimes. But I wasn't goin' 
to get riled, nor thrown off the track; so I jest said: 
"Yes; do you and I git two shillin's worth a piece a 
week out o' that blessed little church of ourn, do you 
think?" says I. "Cos, if we do, I want to give two 
shillings a week to keep it goin', and I thought maybe you 
could do as much." So he said he guessed we could 
stand that, and I said: "That's my proposition; and I 
mean to see if we can't find somebody else that'll do the 
same. It'll show a disposition, anyway." 

" Well, I suppose you'll hev your own way," says he ; 
"you most always do." And I said i " Isn't it most allers 
a good way ?' ' Then I brought out my Subscription Paper. 
I had it all ready. I didn't jest know how to shape it, 
but I knew it was something about " the sums set oppo- 
site our names," and so I drawed it up, and took my 
chances. " You must head it," says I, " because you're 
the oldest deacon, and I must go on next because I am 
the deacon's wife, and then I'll see some of the rest of 
the folks." 

So 'Kiah sot down, and put on his specs, an took his 
pen but did not write. "What's the matter?" says I. 
And he said: "I'm sort o' shamed to subscribe two shil- 
lin's. I never signed so little as that for anything. I used 
to give more than that to the circus when I was nochin' 
but a boy, and I ought to do more than that to support 
the Gospel. Two shillin' a week! Why, its only a 
shillin' a sermon, and all the prayer-meetin's throwed in. 
I can't go less than fifty cents, I am sure." So down he 
went for fifty cents, and then I signed for a quarter, and 
then my sun-bonnet went onto my head pretty lively, 
and I started. 

I called on the Smith family first. I felt sure of them. 
And they were just happy, Mr. Smith signed, and so did 
Mrs. Smith; and long John, he came in while we were 



AUNTY PARSONS'S MISSION STORY. 14 ( .) 

tal kin', and put his name down; and then old Grandma 
Smith, she didn't want to be left out; so there was four 
of 'em. I've allers found it a great thing in any good en- 
terprise to enlist the Smith family. There's a good many 
of 'em. Next, I called on the Joslyns, and next, on the 
Chapins, and then on the Widdie Chad wick, and so I 
kept on. 

I met a little trouble once or twice, but not much. 
There was Fussy Furber, and bein' trustee he thought I 
w ? as out of my spear, he said ; and he wanted it understood 
that such work belonged to the trustees. "To be sure," 
says I, " I'm glad I've found it out. I wish the trustees 
had discovered that a lettle sooner." Then there was 
sister Puffy, that's got the asthma. She thought we 
ought to be lookin' after " the sperritooalities." She said 
we must get down before the Lord. She didn't think 
churches could be run on money. But I told her I 
guessed we should be jest as spiritual to look into our 
pocketbooks a little, and I said it was shame to be 'tar- 
nally beggin' so of the Board. 

She looked dredful solemn when I said that, and I al- 
most felt as I'd been committin' profane language. But I 
hope the Lord will forgive me if I took anything in vain. 
I did not take my call in vain, I tell you. Mrs. Puffy is 
good, only she alius wanted to talk so pious ; and she put v 
down her two shillin's, and then hove a sigh. Then I 
found the boys at the cooper shop, and got seven names 
there at one lick ; and when the list began to grow people 
seemed ashamed to say no, and I kept gainin' till I had 
jest an even hundred, and then I went home. 

Well, it was pretty well towards candle light when I 
got back, and I was that tired, I didn't know much of 
anything. I've washed, and I've scrubbed, and I've 
baked, and I've cleaned house, and I've biled soap, and 
I've moved ; and I 'low that a'most any one of that sort of 
thing is a little exhaustin'. But put your bakin' and 
movin' and bilin' soap all together, and it won't work out 
as much genuine tired soul and body as one day with a 
subscription paper to support the Gospel. So w T hen I 
sort o' dropped into a chair, and Hezekiah said, " Well?" 
I was past speakin' and I put my check apron up to my 



150 scorer's successful recitations. 

face as I hadn't done since I was a young, foolish girl, 
and cried. I don't know what I felt so bad about, I don't 
know as I did feel bad. But I felt cry, and I cried. And 
'Kiah, seein' how it was, felt kind o' sorry for me, and 
set some tea a steepin', and when I had my drink with 
weepin', I felt better. 

I handed him the subscription paper, and he looked it 
over as if he didn't expect anything; but soon he began 
saying, "I never! I never ! ;> And I said, "Of course 
you didn't; you never tried. How much is it? " "Why, 
don't you know? " says he. " No," I said, "I ain't quick 
in figures, and I hadn't time to foot it up. I hope it will 
make us out this year three hundred dollars or so." 

"Amy," says he, " you're a prodigy — a prodigal, I 
may say — and you don't know it. A hundred names at 
two shillin' each gives us $25 a Sunday. Some of 'em 
may fail, but most of 'em is good; and there is ten, 
eleven, thirteen, that sign fifty cents. That'll makeup 
what fails. That paper of yourn'll give us thirteen hun- 
dred dollars a year!" I jumped up like I was shot. 
" Yes," he says, "we shan't need anything this year from 
the Board. This church, for this year at any rate, is self- 
supporting." 

We both sot down and kep' still a minute, when I said 
kind o' softly : "Hezekiah," says I, " isn't it about time 
for prayers; I was just chokin', but as he took down the 
Bible he said : " I guess we'd had better sing somethin'." 
I nodded like, and he just struck in. We often sing 
at prayers in the morning: but now it seemed like 
the Scripter that says: " He giveth songs in the night." 
'Kiah generally likes the solemn tunes, too; and we sing 
"Show pity Lord," a great deal; and this mornin' we had 
sung "Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound," 'cause 
'Kiah was not feelin' very well, and we wanted to chirk 
up a little. 

So I just waited to see what meter he'd strike to- 
night; and would you believe it? I didn't know that he 
knew any sech tune. But off he started on "Joy to the 
world, the Lord is come." I tried to catch on, but he 
went off, lickerty-switch like a steam-engine, and I 
couldn't keep up. I was partly laughin' to see 'Kiah go 



mammy's li'l' boy. 151 

it, and partly crying again, my heart was so full; so 1 
doubled up some of the notes and jumped over the others, 
and so we safely reached the end. 

But I tell you, Hezekiah prayed. He allers prays 
well, but this was a bran' new prayer, exactly suited to 
the occasion. And when Sunday come, and the minister 
got up and told what had been done, and said : " It is all 
the work of one good woman, and done in one day," I 
just got scared and wanted to run. And when some of 
the folks shook hands with me, after meetin', and said, 
with tears in their eyes, how I'd saved the church, and 
all that, I came awful nigh gettin' proud. But, as 
Hezekiah says, i( we're all poor sinners," and so I choked 
it back. But, I am glad I did it; and I don't believe our 
church will ever go boarding any more. 

PRESBYTERIAN JOURNAL. 



MAMMY'S LI'L' BOY. 

This recitation, is greatly improved by singing or rather crooning 
the stanza beginning " Byo baby boy,'' as one would sing it when try- 
iDg to hush a child to sleep, suiting action to the words. — Editor. 

Who all time dodgin' en de cott'n en de corn ? 

Mammy's li'l' boy, mammy's liT boy ! 
Who all time stealin' ole massa's dinner-horn? 

Mammy's li'l' baby boy. 

Byo baby boy, oh bye, 
By-o li'l' boy ! 
Oh, run ter es mammy 
En she tek 'im in 'er arms, 
Mammy's li'l' baby boy. 

Who all time runnin' ole gobble roun' de yard? 

Mammy's li'l' boy, mammy's li'l' boy ! 
Who tek 'e stick 'n hit ole possum dog so hard? 

Mammy's li'l' baby boy. 



152 scorer's successful recitations. 

Byo baby boy, oh bye, 
By-o li'P boy ! 
Oh, run ter es mammy 
En climb up en 'er lap, 
Mammy's li'P baby boy. 

Who all time stumpin' es toe ergin er rock? 

Mammy's li'P boy, mammy's li'P boy ! 
Who all de time er-rippin' big hole en es frock? 

Mammy's li'P baby boy. 

Byo baby boy, oh bye, 
By-o li'P boy ! 
Oh, run ter es mammy 
En she wipe es li'P eyes, 
Mammy's li'P baby boy. 

Who all time er-losin' de shovel en de rake ? 

Mammy's li'P boy, mammy's li'P boy ! 
Who all de time tryin' ter ride 'e lazy drake? 

Mammy's li'P baby boy. 

Byo baby boy, oh bye, 
By-o li'P boy ! 
Oh, scoot fer yer mammy 
En she hide yer Pom yer ma, 
Mammy's liT baby boy. 

Who all de time er-trottin' ter de kitchen fer er bite? 

Mammy's li'P boy, mammy's li'P boy! 
Who mess 'esef wi' taters twell his clothes dey look er 

Mammy's li'P baby boy. [sight? 

Byo baby boy, oh bye, 
By-o li'P boy! 
En 'e run ter es mammy 
Fer ter git 'im out er trouble, 
Mammy's li'P baby boy. 

Who all time er-frettin' en de middle er de day? 
Mammy's li'P boy, mammy's li'P boy ! 



don't cry. 153 

Who all time er-gettin' so sleepy 'e can't play? 
Mammy's li'l' baby boy. 

Byo baby boy, oh bye, 
By-o li'P boy ! 
En 'e come ter es mammy 
Ter rock 'im en 'er arms, 
Mammy's li'l' baby boy. 
Shoo, shoo, shoo-shoo-shoo, 
Shoo, shoo, shoo ! 

Shoo, shoo, shoo-shoo-shoo, 
Shoo, li'l' baby, shoo ! 
Shoo, shoo, shoo-shoo-shoo, 
Shoo, shoo, shoo, 
Shoo, .... 

Deir now, lay right down on mammy's bed en go 
'long back ter sleep, — shoo-shoo! .... (End here. 
Keserve following for encore.) 

Look hyah, nigger, go way f'om dat do' ! You wake 
dis chile up wid dat Jew's-harp, en I'll wear yer out ter 
frazzles !— Sh-h-h-h— . 

H. S. EDWARDS : DELS ARTE RECITATION BOOK. 



DOX'T CRY! 



There ! little girl ; don't cry ! 
They have broken your doll I know ; 
And your tea-set blue 
And your play-house, too, 
Are things of the long ago; 
But childish troubles will soon pass by- 
There ! little girl ; don't cry ! 

There! little girl; don't cry! 

They have broken your slate, I know; 

And the glad wild ways 

Of your school-girl days 



154 scorer's successful recitations. 

Are things of the long ago; 
But life and love will soon come by — 
There ! little girl ; don't cry ! 

There ! little girl ; don't cry! 

They have broken your heart, I know; 

And the rainbow gleams 

Of your youthful dreams 

Are things of the long ago; 
But heaven holds all for which you sigh — 
There! little girl; don't cry. 

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY, 



THE BOBOLINK. 



Once, on a golden afternoon, 

With radiant faces and hearts in tune, 
Two fond lovers in dreaming mood, 
Threaded a rural solitude. 

Wholly happy, they only knew 

That the earth was bright and the sky was blue, 
That light and beauty and joy and song 
Charmed the way as they passed along; 

The air was fragrant with woodland scents ; 

The squirrel frisked on the roadside fence; 

And hovering near them, " Chee, chee, chink? " 
Queried the curious bobolink; 

Pausing and peering with sidelong head, 

As saucily questioning all they said ; 

While the ox-eye danced on its slender stem, 
And all glad nature rejoiced with them. 

Over the odorous fields were strown 
Wilting winrows of grass new mown. 

And rosy billows of clover bloom 

Surged in the sunshine and breathed perfume. 
Swinging low on a slender limb, 
The sparrow warbled his wedding hymn, 

And balancing on a blackberry briar, 

The bobolink sung with his heart on fire — 



THE BOBOLINK. 155 

"Chink! If you wish to kiss her, do! 
Do it ! Do it ! You coward, you ! 

Kiss her ! kiss her ! Who will see ? 

Only we three ! we three ! we three ! 

Ch-wee! ch-wee! ch-wee!" 

Past tender garlands of drooping vines, 
Through dim vistas of sweet-breathed pines, 

Past wide meadow fields, lately mowed, 

Wandered the indolent country road. 
The lovers followed it, listening still, 
And loitering slowly, as lovers will, 

And entered a gray-roofed bridge that lay 

Dusk and cool in their pleasant way. 
Fluttering lightly from brink to brink, 
Followed the garrulous bobolink, 

Rallying loudly with mirthful din, 

The pair who lingered unseen within. 
" Bob-ol-link ! Bob-ol-link! Splink, Splank, Splink! 

Kiss her ! kiss her ! chee ! chee ! chee ! 

I'll not mention it ! don't mind me ! 

Do it ! do it ! ch-wee, ch-wee, ch-wee ! " 

And when from the friendly bridge at last 
Into the road beyond they passed, 

Again beside them the tempter went, 

Keeping the thread of his argument — 
Kiss her I kiss her ! chink-a-chee-chee ? 
I'll not mention it ! Don't mind me ! " 

But ah ! they noted — nor deemed it strange — 
In his rollicking chorus a trifling change — 

" Do it ! do it ? " — with might and main 

Warbled the tell tale— " Do it again ! " 

THE ALDINE. 



rtf THE ORCHARD. 

Sentimental Youth. — How the trees are moaning and 
sighing to-day. 

Practical Maiden. — Well, I guess you would moan 
and sigh if you were as full of green apples as they are. 



156 scorer's successful recitations. 

THE THREE STUTTERERS. 

Three gentlemen, each of whom was a confirmed stut- 
terer, went into a restaurant for oysters. It was agreed 
that each one was to give the order and the one who stut- 
tered most on the word three was to pay the bill. 

First Stutterer.— " S-a-y waiter, 1-1-let us h-h-ve th- 
th-ree stews. 

Second Stutterer. — " W-w-aiter g-g-ive us th-th-th- 
stews." 

Third Stutterer (whistling stutterer). — " M-m-r. W- 

waiter, g-g-give us . W-w- waiter g-g-give us Oh 

h-h-hang it, t-t-two s-s-stews and another one. 



KILL A FIDDLER. 



A prima donna was on the stage singing ; at one part 
she had to take a long breath and sustain a note. She 
held it for a long time, and three Irishmen in the gallery 
looked at each other, and one said, " Whist, moind that, 
will ye?" Another one said, " Oh, that's nothing. 
That's not the woman at all, it's the gas." 

A short time after a man created a disturbance in the 
lower part of the theatre and one Irishman yelled, " Put 
him out," another one said, "Jump on him," the other 
one said, " Say Pat, don't waste him; kill a fiddler wid 
him!" 



OPPORTUNITIES, 



"I was told in my youth to seize opportunities. I 
once tried to seize one. He was rich. He wore dia- 
monds. As I siezed him he knocked me down, since then 
I have learned, that he who seizes opportunities, some- 
times sees the penitentarj^." 

However, I will seize this opportunity to practice the 
advice of the man who had been condemned to be hanged. 
When asked by the judge if he had anything to say, re- 
plied, " See here judge, this is carying the joke too far; 
you'd better drop the subject." 



WATER. 157 

WATER. 

Look at that, ye thirst}' ones of Earth ! Behold it ! 
See its purity ! See how it glitters, as if a mass of liquid 
gems ! It is a beverage that w T as brewed by the hand of 
the Almighty himself. Not in the simmering still over 
smoking fires, choked with poisonous gases, and surround- 
ed by the stench of sickening odors and rank corruptions, 
doth our Father in Heaven prepare the precious essence 
of life, the pure cold water, but in the green glade and 
grassy dell, w^here the red deer wanders and the child 
loves to play. There God brews it, and down, down in 
the deepest valleys, where the fountains murmur and the 
rills sing; and high upon the tall mountain-tops, where 
the naked granite glitters like gold in the sun, where the 
storm-clouds brood and the thunder storms crash; and 
away far out on the wide sea, where the hurricanes howl 
music, and the big waves roar the chorus, sweeping the 
march of God, there He brews it, that beverage of life, 
health-giving water ! 

And everywhere it is a thing of beauty — gleaming in 
the dew-drop, singing in the summer rain, shining in the 
ice-gem, till the trees all seem turned into living jewels — 
spreading a golden veil over the setting sun, or a white 
gauze around the midnight moon — sporting in the cata- 
ract, sleeping in the glaciers, dancing in the hail-showers 
— folding its bright curtain softly about the wintry world, 
and weaving the many-colored iris, that seraph's zone of 
the sky, whose woof is the sunbeam of heaven, all check- 
ered over with celestial flowers by the mystic hand of 
rarefaction — still always it is beautiful, that blessed life- 
water ! No poison bubbles on the brink ! Its foam brings 
no sadness or murder; no blood-stains in its limpid glass; 
broken-hearted wives, pale w r idows, and starving orphans 
shed no tears in its depths; no drunkard's shrieking 
ghost from the grave curses in words of despair. 

The Almighty and the Alwise Creator gave us but 
one drink, and that He furnished bountifully. He 
prepared it in the heavens, amid the mutterings of the 
thunder and the flashing of the lightning; He sent it 
coursing down the hillside, and along the majestic river : 
distilled it in the morning dew, and treasured it in the 
mighty deep. 

Beautiful, pure, blessed and glorious ! give me for- 
ever the sparkling, pure cold water. 

JUDGE ARRINGTON. 



158 scorer's successful recitations 

ENGINEERS MAKING LOVE. 

It's noon when Thirty-five is due, 

An' she comes on time like a flash of light, 

An' you hear her whistle "Too-tee too I " 

Long 'fore the pilot swings in sight. 

Bill Madden's drivin' her in to-day, 

An' he's calling his sweet-heart far away — 

Gertrude Hurd lives down by the mill ; 

You might see her blushin'; she knows it's bill. 

"Tudie, tudie! Toot-ee ! Tudie, tudie! Tu ! " 

Six-five, A. M. there's a local comes, 
Makes up at Bristol, runnin' east ; 
An' the way her whistle sings and hums 
Is a livin' caution to man and beast. 
Every one kuows who Jack White calls, — 
Little Lou Woodbury, down by the falls ; 
Summer or Winter, always the same, 
She hears her lover callin' her name — 
"Lou-ie! Lou-ie ! Lou-iee!" 

But at one fifty-one, old Sixty-four — 
Boston express, runs east, clear through — 
Drowns her rattle and rumble and roar 
With the softest whistle that ever blew. 
An' away on the furthest edge of town 
Sweet Sue Winthrop's eyes of brown 
Shine like the starlight, bright and clear, 
When she hears the whistle of Abel Gear, 
"You-oo ! S-u-u-u-u-e ! ' ' 

Along at midnight a freight comes in, 
Leaves Berlin sometime — I don't know when ; 
But it rumbles along with a fearful din 
Till it reaches the Y-switch there and then 
The clearest notes of the softest bell 
That out of a brazen goblet fell 
Wake Nellie Minton out of her dreams ; 
To her like a wedding-bell it seems — 
"Nell, Nell, Nell ! Nell, Nell, Nell ! " 

Tom Willson rides on the right hand side, 
Givin' her steam at every stride/ 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 159 

An' he touches the whistle, low an' clear, 
For Lulu Gray on the hill, to hear — 
"Lu-Lu ! Loo-Loo ! Loo-oo ! " 

So it goes all day an' all night 
'Till the old folks have voted the thing a bore ; 
Old maids and batchelors say it ain't right 
For folks to do courtin' with such a roar. 
But the engineers their kisses will blow 
From a whistle valve to the girls they know, 
An' stokers the name of their sweethearts tell ; 
With the "Too-too-too" and the swinging bell. 

R. J. BURDETTE. 



SONG OF THE WINTEK WINDS. 

Oh, what is the song that the winter winds sing, 
As earth they are robing with snows that they bring 
From the crystalline realms of the stern ice-king? 
"Oh, pity the poor! oh, pity the poor ! " 

Adown the dark street they are rushing along, 
And into the ears of the hurrying throng, 
They determinate shout the words of their song, 
"Oh, pity the poor ! oh, pity the poor ! " 

They rattle the shutters of the rich millionaire, 
To knock for the mendicant, shivering there, 
And are whispering through, on the cold, cold air, 
"Oh, pity the poor ! oh, pity the poor ! " 

They part the white curtains, and hover beside 
The pillow of one in her maidenhood's pride, 
And breath to her gently, i "The Lord will provide.' 
Oh, pity the poor! oh, pity the poor ! " 

Have ye not heard it, this song born of love, 
Sung by His messengers sent from above 
To tell us our duty, our stewardship prove? 
"Then, pity the poor ! Then, pity the poor ! " 

"The poor ye have always," let love then prevail, 
Lend to the weak, the distressed, and the frail, 
Whom society has shut without her white pale, 
Because they are poor, because they are poor. 

Is this the glad song that the winter winds sing 
As back they are soaring with unwearied wing, 
To the crystalline realms of the stern ice-king? 
"Earth pities her poor, earth pities her poor ! " 

WILLIAM M. CLARK, 



160 scorer's successful recitations 

SO WAS I. — Joseph Bert Smiley.* 

By permission of tlie Author. 

My name is Tommy, an' I hates 
That feller of my sister Kate's. 
He's bigger' n I am an' you see 
He's sorter lookin' down on me, 
An' I resents it with a vim; 
I think I'm just as good as him. 
He's older, an' he's mighty fly 
But he's a kid, an' so am I. 

One time he came, — down by the gate, 
I guess it must been awful late, — 
An' Katie, she was there, an' they 
Was feelin' very nice and gay, 
An' he was talkin' all the while, 
About her sweet an' lovin' smile, 
An' every thin' was nice as pie, 
An' they was there, an' so was I. 

They didn't see me, 'cause I slid 
Down underneath a bush, an' hid, 
An' he was sayin' that his love 
Was greater' n all the stars above 
Up in the glorious heavens placed; 
An' then his arm got round her waist, 
An' clouds were floatin' in the sky, 
An' they was there, an' so was I. 

I didn't hear just all they said, 
But by an' by my sister's head 
Was droopin' on his shoulder, an' 
I seen him holdin' Katie's hand, 
An' then he hugged her closer, some, 
An' then I heered a kiss — yum yum! 
An' Katie blushed an' drew a sigh, 
An' sorter coughed, — an' so did I. 

An' then that feller looked around 

An' seed me there, down on the ground, 

« ■■ ■ ' ■ 

* Author of "Presto Chango," "A Chinese Version of ' Maud Muller,' " 
&c, in No. 30 of Garrett's well-known Series of 100 Choice Selections. 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 161 

Eh — teas he mad? — well, betcher boots 
I gets right outer there an' scoots. 
An' he just left my sister Kate 
A-standin' right there by the gate; 
An' I seen blood was in his eye, 
An' he runned fast — an' so did I. 

I runned the very best I could 
But he cotched up, — I's 'fraid he would, 
An' then he said he'd teach me how 
To know my manners, he'd allow; 
An' then he shaked me awful. Gee! 
He just frashed up the ground with me. 
An' then he stopped it by and by, 
'Cause he was tired — an' so was I. 

An' then he went back to the gate 
An' couldn't find my sister Kate 
'Cause she went in to bed, while he 
Was runnin' round an' thumpin' me. 
I got round in a shadder dim, 
An' made a face, an' guffed at him; 
An' then the moon larfed, in the sky, 
'Cause he was there, an' so was I. 



WHAK THE HAND O' GOD IS SEEN. 

Do I like the city? Stranger, 'tisn't likely that I would; 
'Tisn't likely that a ranger from the border ever could 
Git accustomed to the flurry an' the loud, unearthly noise — 
Everybody in a hurry, men and wimmin, gals an' boys, 
All a-rushin' like the nation 'mid the rumble and the jar, 
Jes' as if their soul's salvation hung upon their gittin' thar. 
Like it? No. I love to wander 

'Mid the vales and mountains green, 

In the border land out yonder 

Whar the hand o' God is seen. 

CAPT. JACK CRAWFORD, 



162 scorer's successful recitations 

WHAT THE BOBOLINKS SAID. 

One afternoon young Philip Brown 

Was reeling homeward from the town; 

His brain confused by the flowing bowl, 

That fell destroyer of body and soul. 

The path where he was wont to go 

Lay where the rush and iris grow. 

The merry brook went babbling by, 

The painted moth and dragon fly 

Poised lightly o'er its dimpling face, 

Or darttd on with agile grace. 

A blackbird chattered in the sun, 

The bobolinks rose one by one 

From out the swaying summer grass, 

And seemed to mock him as he passed. 

"Bobolink ! bobolink ! Why, we should think 

A man would be ashamed to drink ! 

Birds wouldn't do it ! Chink-a-chee, chee; 

Not we ! Not we ! we! we! we! we!' ; 

Poor Phil, ashamed, hung down his he ad ; 

But soon forgot what the birds had said, 

And began to dream in a maudlin way 

Of all the money he meant to pay 

From his empty pockets, some fine day. 

He thought he'd invest in a flouring mill, 

And buy that handsome house on the hill, 

While his cellars should overflow — "Chee ! chink ! " 

Up rose another gay bobolink — 

"You're fooled ! You're fooled ! You stupid, yom, 

That's not what liquor brings one to ! 

'Twill make you poor as poverty ! 

You'll see ! You'll see! See! see! see! §ee ! " 

Then Philip muttered, "A pretty pass ! 

When the birds nag a fellow for taking a glass ! " 

But the thought soon passed from his misty brain, 

And he built another "castle in Spain.' ' 

He giggled and chuckled on thoughts intent 

Of the day when he should be president. 

He'd rule the roost with a rigid hand, 

He'd send his minions all over the land, 



AND PRINCIPLES OF VOICE AND ACTION. 16S 

He'd banish the opium-smoking Chinee, 
But tobacco and whiskey should both be free, 
And that jolly old rumseller over the way 
Shouldn't have a penny of license to pay. 
But a bobolink swayed on a willow limb, 
And pertly and saucily answered him. 
"Bobolink! Bobolink ! You seem to think 
A fool grows wise and great through drink ! 
'Twill bring you but disgrace, you'll see ! 
Twit! Twit! Trust me! Me! me! me! me!" 

Then Philip bewildered and stammering said : 

"Th-that bird must have a remarkable head." 

But the spasm of sense was quickly gone 

And the maudlin dreamer went maundering on: 

"As soon as Queen Victoria's dead 

My little Molly'll rule in her stead ; 

And as for Willie, don't you be fooled, 

He's one of the heirs of the late Jay Gould. 

They'll see that their pa has money to spend ! 

And I'll buy their mother — such gowns — no end ! " 

But a bobolink sprang from its resting-place, 

Flaunting reproof in his very face. 

"Bobolink ! Bobolink ! Chee-chee chink ! 

The wives and children of them that drink 

Down to the lowest level sink. 

Would you have them looked up to, listen to me/ 

Let drink now be ! be ! be ! be ! be ! " 

Then Philip muttered, "Why, what's to pay? 
The birds have turned temperance cranks to-day, 
And the worst of it is I'm not so tight 
But I know very well they are in the right. 
Then tell me now, if it's not too late, 
What must I do to be wealthy and great? " 
Then every bird from its rounded throat, 
Poured forth a rollicking, joyous note : 
"Bobolink ! Bobolink ! Chee-chee chink ! 
Oh, sign the pledge to leave strong drink! 
Sign it ! Sign it ! As quick as a wink ! 
Do it ! Do it ! Quick as can be ! 
And keep it ! Teetotalee ! lee ! lee ! " 

BELLE L. BAENES. 



164 scorer's successful selections. 

DAFFODILS. 

I 

I wandered lonely as a cloud 
That floats on high o'er vales and hills, 

When all at once I saw a crowd, — 
A host of golden daffodils 

Beside the lake, beneath the trees, 

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 

Continuous as the stars that shine 

And twinkle on the Milky Way, 
They stretched in never-ending line 

Along the margin of a bay : 
Ten thousand saw I, at a glance, 
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. 

The waves beside them danced, but they 
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee ; 

A poet could not but be gay 
In such a jocund company ; 

I gazed — and gazed — but little thought 

What wealth the show to me had brought. 

For oft, when on my couch I lie, 

In vacant or in pensive mood, 
They flash upon that inward eye 

Which is the bliss of solitude; 
And then my heart with pleasure fills, 
And dances with the daffodils. 

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 



CHRISTMAS CAROL. 

babe of Bethlehem, I pause to hear 
The angel voices chiming sweet and clear; 

1 lift my eyes to seek the wondrous star 
That led the wise men from their home afar; 
I bend with them in humblest awe to see 
The Kingly One who sat on Mary's knee! 
The lowly, meek, yet royal one, who bore 
The burden of the cross till life was o'er. 

O Christ, our King, half mortal, all divine, 
Who e'er can comprehend such love as thine? 



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